Hidden Gems: An Emerald Nuzlocke
by Fieldo
Summary: A story inspired by a Nuzlocke played in Pokemon Emerald. Jade experiences her first taste of adventure through the Hoenn Region in a Pokemon world perceived through an adult lens. Below are the basic rules of a Nuzlocke: 1. Any fainted Pokemon is considered dead, and must be released. 2. You can only encounter one Pokemon per new area 3. Nickname all Pokemon
1. Part One: The Running Shoes

**Chapter One: The Running Shoes**

* * *

My story begins six years before today.

I was in a room with my parents—too young to even remember the town we lived in. My mother was silent and sidelined, as she tended to be around Norman, my father. I grew up calling him that because it was what everyone else did. People on the street recognized him as the town's Gym Leader. I remember how approachable he was towards those people, versus the distant figure in the doorway the night of that conversation, shadow imposed over me from the light in the kitchen.

"Jade," he began, arms folded. "There's something we need to talk to you about. Your mother and I are going to be spending some time apart."

There was a palpable pause in the room, and they both looked at me wordlessly. I think they expected a larger reaction than the steady stare I gave in return. My excuse is I was only ten at the time, and I didn't understand the weight of it. But part of me wonders if there wasn't much weight to begin with.

"Now, the both of us want you to be happy," Norman continued after I had nothing to say back. "So, we're giving you the choice here. Your mother's going to move out to Littleroot by the end of the week. So, you can either live with her, or stay here with me."

I don't remember blinking once, hoping it would dry my eyes and force me to cry, releasing me from the pressure of this decision; it didn't work. My mother was only in my periphery, nodding along with Norman's offer with her focus on the floor in front of her.

Several seconds passed before I gave my answer, marked by the ticking clock in the corner of the foyer, not far from this harmless talk. I wasn't hesitating, only thinking. I often surprise people with how much I overthink things, especially then. It doesn't mean I make sensible choices, but at least they're mine. Besides, this one was important. It was the first choice I could make for myself since I'd been born.

"We wanted to tell you now so you could have time to decide," Norman said. "Take the week. Visit some friends if you want to keep your mind off it. If you'd like to, I could take you to the pond on the east side of town, too."

Truth be told, my mind was already made up. With a pointed finger level to my shoulders, I arched my arm to point towards my mother.

"I'll go with Mom."

My voice was dulled and subdued. I did my best to keep calm under the immense pressure, but it probably came off as a bit cold. I could tell by my mother's slightest reaction peeking through her stoic face that she did _not _expect me to choose her.

It was even more obvious on Norman's face. He seemed slightly hurt, if not appalled at my decision. For all his banes, he could tell I was sharp. It was written all over him—he knew I was old enough to recognize that he was the one walking away from this with more to offer. Life was comfy for him, which would have meant the same for me. Norman left the decision in my hands fully expecting I would choose him.

What he hadn't planned for was that I was also old enough to tell that my mother needed me more than he did. Not to brag about my importance. But I could tell that Norman's life would go on, possibly improve, in the coming years. It had always been like that. I wasn't so sure my mother would have the same luxury.

He packed the defeat inside him, quickly. Because my eyes hadn't trailed off of him a single time since the conversation began, I could tell he had a lot to say. There was probably an essay in his head to convince me to stay with him. But he just took it instead.

"We understand."

I felt strong, like I made a big choice, and it was the right one. But as time passed, the choice made me feel small. It wouldn't be fair for me to complain about it, though; because it all led to the incident that happened today.

* * *

Littleroot served more as a prison than a town to me.

The whole town was about an acre at best. The buildings numbered in the single digits, and there was only one other person my age. The green scenery was quaint—a dense forest that surrounded the boundaries like a barricade. The grass never grew above ankle height, and the weather was always pleasant; the boredom surrounding Littleroot was deafening. No one visited, and no one I knew ever left. To my knowledge, there was no contact with the outside world.

For six years I lived here. Sometimes, days would pass without me speaking a single word to anyone. When nothing changed, there was nothing to talk about. My mother was the same way, silenced by the suffocating peace. It was impossible to relate to the other townsfolk, ever since I hopped off that move-in truck. In their isolation, everyone led separate lives, no way to forge connections.

The only person in Littleroot I could call my peer would be Brendan, the boy who lived across the way from our home. We spoke seldomly, but seldomly was more frequent than most. We shared similar interests in Pokémon, so it was possible for us to become friends. But, even that bridge was burnt. Speaking to him was insufferable. Not because he was dull, or even rude. Every conversation revolved around him. No matter what I said, he would spin it to talk about himself. I only listened, until eventually I stopped. He would always talk about his encounters with Pokémon, harrowing and exciting—until I realized that they were probably fake. His father, and his importance despite his clear absence, was a constant topic—again, a touchy subject for me. The only person I was close to making a meaningful friendship with was the one person I avoided above everyone else.

For the longest time, I spent my days wandering the small space. Aimless, speechless, I acquainted myself with every place in Littleroot past the point of maddening boredom, wasting daylight for over five years. We're bordered on three sides by thick trees we aren't allowed to bypass. The only exit was a route to the north, one constantly monitored by townsfolk. This route led to the outside world, the only path into what else is out there. The problem being, it was marred with feral Pokémon presence. Traveling without a means of protection was impossible.

I had not lived here long, but I was warned not to enter the route into the tall grass. People have died trying to leave Littleroot. And I don't blame them. I dreamt of making a mad dash out into the wild plenty of times. When I got too close, the person waiting outside the entrance would say the same thing:

"You can't go out there."

They didn't need to tell me why. A few horror stories about what a Pokémon could do to a defenseless human was enough to deter any sane person. In fact, the only thing keeping those beasts out of Littleroot were the Pokémon posted by Norman. As a Gym Leader, it's within his duties to rent out his Pokémon to protect the citizens of Hoenn, my home continent.

Somewhere between four and six Vigoroth roamed Littleroot, day in and day out (it's hard to tell them apart, and hard to count). Their height was similar to a human's, only their posture was hunched like a primate as their knuckles swayed on their march through the minimal streets. Their sturdy, hulking figures were covered in a silver fur, slothlike claws hooking at the end of their lanky arms. Their piercing eyes housed dense black pupils in the center, the whites of their irises amplified by the dark rings of fur surrounding them.

They intimidated me. Maybe because they're almost human. Or, maybe because they're Norman's, and they felt like part of the reason I couldn't leave this place. Either way, they're the one thing I avoided more than Brendan.

Those were how I spent my days: roaming without much purpose. It seems awful, but I definitely preferred it compared to the nights in Littleroot.

For as nice as the weather seemed, it got cold at night year-round. It restricted me to my home until the sun warmed the plains in the morning. The house was very open—the first floor had only half a wall to mark where the living room ended and the kitchen began. Upstairs were two rooms, one of them mine; but my mother rarely slept in her own.

When I came home, she would be watching the television in complete darkness, sprawled across the couch she would eventually sleep atop. She called me over, a tinge of excitement coming from her weary face extenuated by the flickering light of the screen. My chest always tightened when she invited me to watch with her. Because I knew what I was watching.

The Gym challenges were televised here in Hoenn. Gym Leaders were like celebrities, and thousands of people tuned in to watch the prerecorded challenges each and every night. My mother was obsessed with watching Norman defend his Gym in battles.

Not much seemed to keep her attention in everyday life, distracting by living. Watching Norman battle was one of the only things that kept her full focus. The challengers were different almost every night, but Norman's lead was always the same—Slaking, the evolved form of Vigoroth. A gargantuan, auburn-haired ape with arms built like oak trunks, its scowl appeared lethargic above a piglike nose, muscles meshed across its hairless chest. From its sheer size and strength, it always handled opposing Pokémon with such casual flair—and, from what I could hear from the cheers humming through our TV speakers, that's what people loved about it.

Hoenn loved the spectacle. Pokémon battles were the only big events, and people took it seriously. They loved Norman because his Pokémon were strong. They spoke about battles with passion like it's an art, and with nuance like it's a sport. But, when I watched Slaking battle the challengers, I didn't see any of that.

I saw a monster beating another creature to death. And the people applauded.

My mom was enamored by the fights, watching Norman succeed against challengers time and time again. It made me sick sometimes, watching her spectate every encounter with bated breath, like she was in full support of him. She cheered like he could hear her, or like he was even listening. It made me unmistakably sad.

That's why I preferred to spend nights in my room. I didn't spend those nights wisely, though; when I was younger, I thought rotating the hands on my clock would somehow make my life go by faster, and I would spin them until I fell unconscious.

As for hobbies, I only had one: Pokémon.

Maybe my interest in them was imposed upon me; my shelf is filled with books, and they were about nothing but Pokémon. Hoenn had vast wildlife, meaning there were endless types of creatures to read about. Pokémon were a window into the world they inhabited—a world that I couldn't access, no matter how hard I tried. Their habitat, behavior, and history in Hoenn was all too fascinating to me. Even more intriguing to me were their abilities: the unique, superhuman powers they possessed. Pokémon that can lift boulders, fly at supersonic speeds, heat themselves hotter than the sun. The stories were all but mythical, and felt impossible to believe. The number of ways they could kill me were truly terrifying.

I loved Pokémon more than anything. But I feared them more than anything, too.

That was my life. Roaming Littleroot by day, reading about Pokémon by night. But, this story isn't about how I remain stuck. It's about how I was set free.

At sixteen, I received my first gift from Norman.

It arrived in the mail a day early, and I could say it was an honest shock. My mother was overjoyed by the surprise, but I'd be lying if there wasn't a small sense of dread welling within me. I'd never gotten a gift that wasn't a means to an end before. If Norman sent me something, it's possible he wanted something from me in return.

They were a pair of Running Shoes, wrapped in silky shoestore cloth. Built with a black fabric, a red-ringed design resembling a Pokéball decorated the exterior. Against my expectations, they were a perfect fit; this clued me in that my mother and Norman must be speaking to each other in some capacity. The heel padding squeaked atop the hardwood floor as I stretched my ankles and tested their comfort.

"They look perfect on you," Mom said excitedly.

"I like them," I said. And I meant it.

"Your father bought you those. He wrote a letter, too," she sung his praises. "Best of all, he sent us some money finally."

"Oh. That's good."

"I'm so relieved that he remembered."

Eventually, I read the letter. Skimmed it, mostly. Norman talked about the Gym, and how successful it had been—but I already knew that. My mother watched it succeed nightly. He asked how I was, what I'd been up to. But the questions were moot, it wasn't like I could tell him without sending a letter back. I placed it back in the box, and left the money beside it. I don't know where it ever ended up.

From that day forward, the Running Shoes only left my feet when I went to bed. I wore them everywhere, and used them for exactly what they were meant for—running.

Every day, I repeated the same process. Running around the border of Littleroot was a single lap, and I would accomplish as many of those as I could manage. Around Littleroot I ran, and ran, and ran. For six months I ran. Past the townsfolk that paid me no mind, keeping a buffer between me and Brendan, avoiding the Vigoroth as best I could. The better I got at it, the more it made me realize how small Littleroot really was. I ran around the border so much, I was stomping out a small trench that ran the entirety of the town's exterior. I was like a beast caged at the zoo, roaming the same trail every day, unable to subdue my primal instincts and craving for freedom.

The more I ran, the bolder I became. Eventually, I succumbed to an insane plot: once I was able to run fast enough, I would make a break for it. I would run straight through the route to the north to see what was on the other side.

It was a fool's errand. I knew that there were Zigzagoon on the route to the north; small jagged beasts with rodent features capable of running laps around the fastest humans. To outrun the danger on the route would be to outrun possibility. Regardless, the Running Shoes were the first sign of hope I had in a long time. They represented something to strive towards, and saved me from my boredom.

And, because I was out running every morning, I was at the perfect place at the perfect time for my life to change forever.

Like most mornings, I was on my third lap by the time the sun was fully risen. That early, there were usually less Vigoroth, likely switching shifts. I liked to run at times when I'd see them less, so I woke up early to manage that.

But, when I rounded the northern corner, I saw something out of the ordinary, in a place that _nothing_ was never out of the ordinary. A group of three townsfolk were huddled at the town's exit, whispering suspiciously amidst themselves. While it was odd, it wouldn't have been enough to grab my attention. There was more to it, though.

I heard a scream to the north.

It was enough to make me skid my jog to a halt, just out of earshot of the trio at the route's entrance. They were curious passerbys, obviously wary of the route ahead of them. But, above all else, panic was painted across their faces as they muttered through ragged breaths the events they caught glimpses of between the patches of forest shade.

"Someone's being attacked by a wild Pokémon."

"I saw three—no, four Zigzagoon running around."

"No way. Who the hell is out there on their own?"

"It was the Professor. He just returned from out of town."

"He should know better. The routes are dangerous."

My curiosity caught me, sending me up towards the entrance in order to gain me the best vantage. This brought me within eyesight of the spectators gossiping to the other side of the route's mouth.

"Jade, be careful," one of them warned. "Wait until the guards come."

I didn't get closer out of concern or intrigue in the person's wellbeing. I'm not sure what I was expecting to do—but I think I just wanted to see.

This was the closest anyone allowed me, and my first good look at the interior of the route. I saw an unfamiliar sight—unkept grass, swaying wildly in the wind snaking through the rows of trees sprawling endless roots on all sides. The shade was fiercely dark, and only a faint trail of sunlight peeked through a central cone through the forest. I finally found it. A place without human interference. Without a small two-story house where the television reminded me of Norman, no Vigoroth or Brendan to speak of. It was harrowing and dangerous, which made it everything I asked for.

Before I could take in the rest of the scenery, I caught a glimpse of skittering through the dense blades of grass, writhing from interference. The townsfolk in my periphery flinched a full foot backwards. It was a small figure with jagged edges of fur, sifting through its habitat; a wild Zigzagoon. I was surprised how swiftly they prowled, shifting directions every few feet, the display befuddling. Just as I lost sight of one's trail, another made itself known, and another after that. They hunted as a pack, and I remembered reading that there were a lot more than three or four when they were searching for food.

My heart sunk once a taller figure fumbled his way into view, practically clinging to a tree to maintain posture. A person, older than me, carrying a bag with endless pockets, slung over a lab coat stained pink with blood from bite marks. I assumed this was the Professor the others were talking about; but my mind was elsewhere in the moment. He reminded me of the Pokémon I saw being slaughtered by Slaking on my mother's TV. Fearful and crazed. And, as I watched him slink slowly towards Littleroot, it was easy to tell that the Zigzagoon were encircling him.

"Look, there he is!" Townsfolk shouted. This made the man look up at the entrance, practically collapsing to one knee from preemptive relief.

"He's almost made it," another remarked.

"We have to be more careful. We almost lost another one to the route."

"You would think a man so educated would know better than to—"

I didn't stick around to hear any more of their snide quips. Under everyone's guise, I lunged into the forest, taking my first few steps into the route with the long, arching strides of a full sprint breath ragged and hasty to maintain my newfound pace.

"_Jade, wait!_" They shouted. I did not wait.

The footing in the forest was so different from Littleroot. The dirt was cold and made for poor cushioning, my ankles twisting in odd ways as they encountered the roots of the trees, the boundary of my serpentine into the forest. Their shouts were nothing but echoes beneath the heartbeat ringing in my ears. I was dead-set on reaching him.

The blurs of brown and white through the grass signified the consequence of my choice. I'd caught the attention of the Zigzagoon. The last six months of my life were about running, so I hoped the Shoes would serve me well.

The first creature leapt towards me, its legs allotting it to soar to my shoulder height towards me. It took all my heightened senses fueled by adrenaline to sway my upper body out of the way, tipping me off my center of gravity. I slipped to the forest floor, sliding along a patch of mud-like earth by my hip. The grass was bent as I bisected through it, assaulting me as my vision was filled with streaks of green. For several more feet I flew along the ground, two more Zigzagoon passing me on the sides. Their growls were haunting down at their level, fearsome despite their stature. The instant the sole of my shoe found purchase on the broad side of a tree trunk, I scrambled to my feet to skitter towards my target.

I was bitten. A Zigzagoon sunk its fangs into my forearm, puncturing the skin and sending a surge up pain through me. I reacted, wildly whipping my arm with a shout through grit teeth, shaking myself free and pressing onward with an open wound. I sped through my exhaustion, now officially afraid for my life as I saw several more flutters of grassy movement encircling me.

But, it all became worth it once I finally reached the Professor.

I feel like my actions could be easily misunderstood here.

I did not risk life and limb to save the Professor. That sounds harsh to address, but it's the truth. Littleroot was destitute and all, but I still had ambitions, and I wasn't stupid enough to throw myself into certain death for altruistic reasons.

So, why did I run into the route? The answer is because I saw something.

What the Professor carried with him was what interested me. Because, in his retreat towards Littleroot as prey, he fell forward, catching himself on a tree. As he did this, his bag rolled forward, pockets unsnapping and the contents spilling outward.

And I saw my first one. A red and white Pokéball.

While everyone else whispered about how foolish the Professor was, my eyes fixated on the little device rolling along the flat dirt beneath him. I couldn't get the thought out of my head; this could be my only chance to leave this town. If I didn't risk everything, I could fail to achieve anything.

Finally, the eyes of the man I was making a mad dash towards locked onto me. Reaching his spot on the route, my knees skid across the rugged floor, scraping themselves as I collapsed in front of the Professor in exhaustion. My focus was hardly on him, but I could still tell he possessed a perplexed expression.

"What are you _doing_, child?!" He shouted in exasperation. "It's too dangerous out here for you to be—_HEY!_"

His scream wasn't unwarranted, since all he could do was sit by as I raided his equipment bag with a scrambling haste. I didn't care how it looked to him, though. All I was thinking was, _where is it, where is it, where is it_. _My ticket out of here. Where is it. _

The Pokéball was easier to spot from afar, and in my panic I struggled to find it under the immense pressure of death looming in the back of my mind. Only adding to the stress, I felt the claws of a Zigzagoon, charging beyond my sight, gnashing into my back, tearing up the fabric of my clothes. I winced and flailed through the Professor's belongings quicker, the growls echoing around us in stereo.

_Where is it, where is it. _

My hands found purchase on the device, ripping it into my sight as pen and paper fluttered through the faint breeze whirling around the route. It was in my grasp.

The creature dug further into my skin, the warmth of blood pooling beneath my shoulder blades as my vision tunneled from the sudden pain, while I clung to the Pokéball with an insurmountable death grip. And, for the first time, I felt my life flashing before my eyes. I wasn't really afraid of dying; I was afraid I hadn't really lived yet.

With it finally within my hands, I knew I was releasing pandora's box. My life would never be the same, for better or worse. It was a binding contract that I signed the second I charged past the Littleroot border. With one thumb pressed into the Pokéball's only button, my other thumb layered itself overtop that, eyes sunken in fixation with what would happen next.

Before I could release my grip, and the creature within, the Professor grabbed by wrists, clamping my hands together and shaking me with a sudden, panicked aggression.

"You don't understand what you're doing!" he yelled, the Zigzagoon still assaulting us. "That Pokémon will not save us! It is too unstable and defiant! I came out into the wild to dispose of it in the first place!"

"_Don't listen to this bastard._"

The voice rung loud and clear in my head, and my face must have froze in cold surprise as it happened. Moments later, a fierce light filled the darkened route surroundings, strobing through the tree line and blinding the Littleroot bystanders; even the Zigzagoon were kept at bay by the release of the beast from the Pokéball.

Before my eyes could adjust to the light, slowly dimming itself around me, the voice continued to speak to me. It sounded oddly familiar, despite it being a stranger to me.

"_That man is lying through his teeth,_" the low timbre hummed itself with a gruff undertone. "_He's only afraid because he can't control me._"

Through the pain of the Zigzagoon's attacks, and the confusion of the ensuing events, my senses were thoroughly assaulted. In exhaustion, my body fell to one side, barely conscious as I managed to slump one shoulder over the roots of the grass beneath my body. Eyes blurred with tears, I could barely see what stood before me.

Though close to the ground, the Pokémon stood tall compared to my prone, motionless position. Its lime-green, scaly skin was contrasted by a red stomach, a horizontal texture lining up its body to the jawline. It housed a dark green tail, bushy and twice the length of its legs, which whipped through the wind as it turned to face me and reveal two intense, bright-yellow eyes with an intense, humanlike quality to them.

It was a Treecko. An endangered species I read about in a book.

He spoke to me—I never read about anything like that happening.

"_You freed me from my prison. How should I reward someone so reckless and stupid?_"

I felt paws press into my shoulders, as the Zigzagoon clawing at me leapt from my body, soaring towards the newly-released Treecko. Without hesitation, and with a swift reaction time, it spun its tail forward to meet the Zigzagoon's course, snapping into the side of its neck with a deafening crack, knocking the brown blur away, tumbling across the route floor with a wounded hobble to its feet after.

"_Well,_" the Treecko spoke, its mouth not moving to form the words. "_Before that. I'll start by proving to Birch this habitat isn't enough to dispose of me._"

The Zigzagoon charged, three from different angles in an attempt to pincer their opponent. But, the Treecko managed their approaches, pivoting to swing its tail towards the two to its back, feet leaving the ground to springboard itself to a tree by leaping off the third Zigzagoon's head. From the branch, it used its vantage to keep a distance between two more of the rodents clawing their way up the trunk, batting them away in quick succession. Both in my stupor and human limitations, I could not keep up with the battle. I felt helpless, exhausted by my sprint towards this prize. Once the Zigzagoon found the treeborne Treecko too difficult to reach, they turned their attention towards me, one of the beasts charging my unguarded face in a straight beeline.

Before I could flinch and accept my fate, the creature I released from the Pokéball dove and intercepted the attack, crushing the critter between its tail and the hardened earthen ground of the route.

"_Don't drop dead on me yet, kid,_" it remarked. "_You're my ticket out of here._"

I was too confused to respond, slipping out of my last few moments of consciousness. The last scene I recalled unfolding were the remaining Zigzagoon, hind legs outstretched, lurching their way backwards into the darkness of the route, as Treecko stood over me, imposing itself with an aggressive saunter that warded off the wild beasts.

"_Run away, and never come back,_" I heard it shout at the Zigzagoon. "_I was built for this!_ _You and I are NOT the same!_"

I blacked out, and I thought my adventure was over before it even began.

* * *

It could have been hours, or it could have been days. I had no way of telling, but I eventually woke up in a place I'd never been before.

White walls surrounded the marble tile I was sitting atop, my legs folded and my shoulder resting against cold metal. My eyes were met with an intricate device with various monitors, which I leaned against in my slumber. It beeped steadily, filling the room with sound that drowned out the mutters I heard coming from the double doors across from me, two shadows standing in conversation with one another. My arm was bandaged, as was my back, and my wit slowly returned to me as I processed what happened before passing out.

Standing in front of me, green arms folded, was the Treecko I released out on the route. Its stare went through me, my discomfort spiking, until the familiar voice made itself known to my senses.

"_She lives again,_" it said.

I was surprised beyond belief, but the shock barely made it onto my face. Instead, I sat rigidly across from the Pokémon, confused past the point of coherent questions.

"_I've never seen a human charge a habitat like that alone,_" spoke the Treecko. "_You must be a sheltered girl deaf to the ways of the world._"

Finally, the words arrived upon my lips.

"You can talk…?"

"_No,_" it responded. "_I can't speak, but you can listen._"

It outstretched a finger, one of three on each hand, directing my attention to my blue and white gloves, fastened tightly to my wrists, still bruised from the Professor's clasp. My open palms were cupping the Pokéball I acquired earlier.

"_I can share my thoughts with whoever holds that device,_" it explained, soothing my confusion only slightly. "_As long as you keep that to yourself, no one can hear me but you._"

It had been too long since I had a conversation that left me in suspense with each word; I never expected it would be with a Pokémon. While I had countless books about the biology of Pokémon, I knew nothing about being a trainer. I dreamed of being one without understanding what it was in the slightest. I held the Pokéball, polished and pristine, over my legs crossed underneath me, my Running Shoes showing some wear and tear from my stunt this morning.

"_While you were out, they tried to take it from you,_" the Treecko said. "_But, despite being asleep, you wouldn't let go, cradling it like it was your young. I snapped at them and chased them off. They wanted to trap me again._"

"Trap you?" I asked. "Is that how you see Pokéballs?"

He scoffed. Despite his appearance, speaking to him was strangely human.

"_Why should I enjoy a cage?_" He posited. "_Should I be thankful, just because it separates me from those animals? It's hardly an honor to be a human's slave._"

I found myself without response. Listening to the Treecko was becoming almost _too _humanizing. An animal never expressed to me a dislike in being domesticated before. But, I could identify with it. A Pokéball seems cramped. More cramped than Littleroot, even.

"Where are we?" I questioned, still gaining my bearings.

"_The Lab,_" he responded. "_The one place I never want to see again._"

I knew what the Lab was, even though I never went into the Lab myself (I wasn't allowed). The only other kid in Littleroot, Brendan, bragged about his father's accomplishments, always pointing to the southwest corner of town, directing my attention to a plain brick building without any windows and only a single, locked entrance. No one ever came and went, not before curfew when I could observe. The mystery of it never held my attention; it was just another place I wasn't allowed to go.

"_I'm glad we can discuss things before they get to you,_" Treecko continued, approaching on its hind legs with its stare no less intense than when I first freed it. "_Listen to me. This give-and-take relationship we have is not over. You used me. And I saved your life. Which means you owe me this favor. Whatever you do, do not let them take me away. I don't care where you go, or what you want to do after that. As long as it gets me out of this Lab._"

Finally, a voice in the hall was audible to me.

"Oh, she's awake!"

The sound of another human distracted me, only for an instant. But, in that time, the Treecko encroached into my space, stepping up onto me with one of its hands at the collar of my shirt, shaking me to attention with an aggressive growl to its voice.

"_Promise me._"

The skittering in the hall was getting louder. I nodded in complicity.

"I promise."

The glass double doors swung open as the sporadic figure made itself known to my vision. Despite the several strangers in lab coats attempting to slow her down, my mother rushed across the room to my aid. As other humans entered the room, the Treecko turned to face them, releasing its aggression and plopping itself atop my lap, deceptively docile.

"Jade!" she called, keeping her distance because of the Pokémon with me. I wondered how she could be so afraid of the creatures she cheered for on television every night. "How are you feeling? I came over as soon as I heard. They told me you were attacked—I thought we were safe in this town, I thought—"

"I'm alright, Mom," I assured her. "It wasn't as big a deal as it looks." If there was anyone I was an optimist towards, it was her.

"Norman told me we'd be safe here. He said—"

"Ma'am," one of the men in lab coats interrupted. "Your daughter isn't telling you the important detail. She was attacked by the wild Zigzagoon because she ran out of town and onto the route this morning."

There was a shift on my mother's face. Her worry turned to confusion, like she was missing something, a code to my behavior that hadn't been cracked. I could tell words were eluding her; I couldn't blame her, because I felt the same several times today alone.

"That's a capital offense in Littleroot," another of the men posited. This pulled my mother's full attention towards them.

"I'm—I'm sure Jade meant no harm running onto the route," my mother pleaded, exasperated by the influx of information. "She didn't know it would cause such a ruckus—she's only a young girl. Surely, no one warned her. She would never do something so reckless like this on her own."

Although my mother was defending me unabashedly, it was hard to be grateful. It only drove home that no one in Littleroot could understand my decision. But, a mutter from Treecko put it in a different perspective.

"_Making that woman grovel without telling her about Birch being in danger. Despicable._" This also drove home that no one else could hear him but me.

"Ma'am, your daughter is constantly coming to the gate of Littleroot asking to leave," one of them said. A surge of spite rose in me, shooting the men a look. Upon closer inspection, I recognized them; they were regulars in Littleroot, only donning lab coats. I had no idea they worked in a Lab, making me question what else I didn't know about this town.

Interrupting the room's dispute was another entrance from the double doors across the way. It was another familiar face—this supposed Professor Birch, the same man I saw clinging to life against the wild Zigzagoon. His wounds were tended, and his arm was casted and slung. He housed unkempt auburn hair, with an accompanying beard and sideburns that outlined his face. Beyond his lab coat that matched the others, he wore surprisingly casual wear; cargo shorts with a blue top, sandals wrapped over his shoes with a velcro strap. He looked down at me with a stern expression. But, most of his fixation was with the Pokémon on my lap.

"_Be wary with this one,_" I heard the Treecko, impatience apparent in his voice.

Like with most people, I waited for the Professor to speak first. But, this caused a palpable silence. Birch observed me like a diagnosis; I may have met my match as a silent observer. My mom was to the side, watching with wide eyes. Finally, he began.

"You're Norman's kid?" he asked.

Bad start.

"Oh, sure," I said, my eyes to the floor, disinterested already.

His arms folded, stature imposing over my seated position across the Lab floor. I could tell the Treecko was trying to recede further out of sight, away from the conversation as much as I would allow.

"My name is Professor Birch," he introduced himself. "I run this Lab in our humble town of Littleroot. I'm in charge of researching Hoenn's many Pokémon. And, this morning on Route 101, you saved my life."

Maybe I was supposed to practice some modesty, but I was hung up on something.

"That route has a number?" I asked.

"Why, yes," he answered with some grace to his tone. "There are thirty-four different routes in Hoenn. Each of them housing a diverse habitat of Pokémon. Route 101 connects us to Oldale town, just to the north of Littleroot."

Thirty-four was a daunting number; especially since the first route I ever travelled almost took my life. The world was startlingly larger than I was led to believe, and some sense of wonder must have crept onto my face, because the Professor used it.

"I suppose it makes sense Norman's daughter would have the same affinity for Pokémon as he possesses." His eyes never left the creature atop my lap. "It would be unbecoming of me to relinquish this Pokémon from you after you went to such trouble to rescue me from those Zigzagoon. Tell me—do you have an interest in going on an adventure with a Pokémon?"

My eyes met his finally. I hardly expected the person I saw assaulted by Zigzagoon this morning would hold that kind of authority. I didn't know who was in charge of Littleroot—although I assumed it was Norman. _Someone_ must have set the rule that people weren't allowed to leave. And it seemed Birch had the pull to break that rule. But, I couldn't dwell on the Littleroot politics; this was exactly what I wanted.

"I do. Can you make that happen?"

"I can," he said. "We breed Pokémon in this Lab that are a perfect fit for a trainer's first companion. Although…" the first sign of hesitation spread across him. "I must insist that we choose a different companion for your adventure. It's just—that Treecko—"

"I want to take him with me."

I blurted it out, trying to make good on the promise I made. Although, the sudden outburst roused suspicion in the Professor, waiting for a more logical follow-up. I wasn't a quick thinker, but I did what I could to play it off.

"I've already gotten attached," I said. "Gave him a name and everything."

"A name…" the Professor repeated, some apprehension in the remark. "The species already has a name, I'm afraid. It's Treecko, the grass-type."

I looked down at the Pokémon, who eyed me with its usual piercing yellow gaze.

"Well, that's not how I look at it," I rationalized. "I think I'm going to call him Willow. I'm a human, but my name is Jade. This Pokémon's name isn't Treecko—that's just his species. He's Willow."

"_You are the most bizarre human,_" I heard the newly-appointed Willow remark, some distaste in their name seeping through his voice. I'm certain the Professor was equally weirded out by the choice, but I hoped it didn't spell the end of my adventure.

"If you're certain you can handle that Treecko, I won't stop you," he said defeatedly. "As you saw earlier, it's an ornery creature. Fickle and stubborn. Travelling with that companion is a more dangerous path than most."

"Don't worry. Willow and I get along well," I assured.

"_Please stop calling me that. Don't let it stick._"

"Either way," Birch added. "I'll be sure to help you make the necessary preparations. You'll be fitted with a map with the towns and routes clearly marked. And we can definitely spare a stockade of Pokéballs to help you build an entire team to protect you—"

"Wait. Before that," I interjected, hand outstretched as I managed myself back onto my feet. As I rose up, Willow lost his footing, clinging to my leg as he climbed up onto my shoulder—the left shoulder, away from the Professor. "If I could have a minute alone with my Mom, there's a lot I want to talk to her about."

A flush of understanding washed across his face, and he nodded in recognition.

"Of course. We'll get everything ready for you in the meanwhile."

Birch left the room, his coworkers reluctantly following in tow. Aside from Willow, I was alone in the Lab with my mother, who couldn't get a single word in during the Professor's invitation for adventure. I knew it was common for my mother to silence herself in those conversations, which is why I wanted to give her the chance to prevent me from leaving. Even though it was against everything I worked to achieve, it was only fair I let her speak for herself.

"You really went out into the route on your own?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, hoping the truth would be the least painful option. "Well… it was the first time I got away with it, anyway."

"You want to leave Littleroot that badly?"

That, I was too guilty to admit. My mother wasn't the problem, but she could easily assume she was. So, I shrugged with a false smile.

"Someone has to go thank Norman for the Running Shoes," I said. "It might as well be the person he bought them for."

There was some small signs of relief on her face. I hadn't talked about Norman in a positive light in years, and a small part of her was probably waiting for the moment I would speak well of him. She was too hopeful to notice it was fake, but I was glad it made her happy, as selfish as it was.

"Your father only lives a few towns over," she said. "You won't have to travel far to see him. I can give you whatever money you'll need to reach Petalburg City."

"Thanks, Mom."

With a hug, I received the necessary blessing to leave Littleroot, once and for all. The constricting town with four walls of forest, keeping me from the rest of Hoenn. I never pinned down an exact reason I wanted to go on an adventure—the honest answer is probably because I wasn't allowed to. But, this felt earned. I strode out of the lab pridefully, paying no mind to my surroundings as my mind wandered with the possibility of what the rest of Hoenn had to offer.

"_Look at all the deals you had to make for one simple choice._" Willow spoke to me again once I was alone. "_Humans have to plead their case incessantly before they're allowed to do anything._"

"I went through all of that to hold up my end of our bargain," I said with a whisper, hoping no one nearby would be listening in. "You wanted out—I happen to want out, too. If we keep this up, we'll find a place in Hoenn better suited for us.

"_Don't start with 'we' and 'us', kid._"

Before I reached the exit of the Lab, I halted my retreat to eye the Treecko, finally matching the intensity of his gaze with my own.

"_Listen,_" he said. "_This has worked well so far, but don't expect this to pay off for you._"

"I guess Birch wasn't kidding when he called you ornery," I remarked.

"_I only come off that way because humans expect us to be subordinate,_" Willow replied with a toxicity to his tone. "_The only thing keeping me abandoning you is that red and white device at your side. So, until you get left in the dust somewhere along the way, it's only fair I warn you—you're nothing but a means to an end for me._"

This made me smile, a smirk emerging from the corner of my mouth.

"Then I guess we're a means to each other's end, Willow. Don't expect a cushy life with me, either. You're my ticket out of Littleroot, and if you drive this trip into the dirt, I'll just have to keep you in this red and white device for the rest of your days. So, I'd say we're _both_ better off playing nice and using each other."

Through his narrowed eyes, I sensed a look of understanding from Willow, as his head turned to face the exit and escape the tension of our exchange. Although, when he spoke again, there was less of a seething anger to it.

"_We may not get along, but at least we can agree._"


	2. Part Two: The Rival

**Chapter Two: The Rival**

* * *

My name is Jade, and I've been a Pokémon trainer for five minutes. This morning, I rescued Professor Birch on Route 101, and was rewarded with my Treecko named Willow. When I received the blessing to leave Littleroot, I thought I'd be able to leave everything I disliked about the town behind.

I was wrong.

Standing outside the Lab, I was met with Professor Birch and his various assistants, rewarding my decision with the necessary supplies to survive out in the wilderness between Hoenn's various towns. I was outfitted with a green handbag, pockets stacked with Pokéballs and the money my mother leant me moments prior. It wrapped around my waist nicely, appearing like a belt form the front. I had the top my shoulder-length hair packed tightly in a green bandana that wrapped around my head. With a sporty top and leggings fit to jog in my worn Running Shoes, I was prepared to leave. But, the Professor had one last unpleasant surprise waiting for me before that could happen.

"Now, Jade," he started. "I respect the enthusiasm you possess for this adventure. But it's a dangerous world out there, especially for someone so unseasoned. So, for the first trip out, I'm going to send my son as your guide. I'm sure you're well acquainted with Brendan already."

I was; Brendan was one of my least appreciated parts of Littleroot. Though he was my age, he composed himself with a unique flavor of arrogance, which was apparent even as he stood beside his father, wide-grinned with an upward chin my direction.

"I heard about this morning; that was some crazy stuff, Jade," Brendan remarked with the slightest nasal tinge to his voice. "No worries, though. I'll be sure to getcha up north safe and sound."

"Sounds good to me," I played along. Beggars couldn't be choosers in this instance. If I had to leave Littleroot with Brendan's help, it was better than having to stay.

"My son has been supporting my research for several years now," Birch explained to me. "He knows his way around the first couple of routes closest to us. So long as you don't stray off the path too much, it'll be a seamless trip to Oldale and back."

Oldale was a new name to me. So was Petalburg, which my mother mentioned earlier. All these places were foreign to my knowledge, but I trusted that the map the Lab left in my care had all the surrounding towns clearly outlined. Although I had a limited set of survival skills, I wouldn't let that be the reason I didn't go. So, having thoroughly prepared, I gestured to Brendan that I was ready to, reluctantly, follow his lead.

"I ought to be back by tomorrow afternoon," he told his father. "Unless Jade is more trouble than I'm expecting."

I followed him closely behind, only because I was so excited to leave Littleroot without anyone to stop me. Similar to my bag, he carried a green backpack over his back, which I could only assume housed all essential trainer items. His cap had a green strand wrapped just above his forehead, tied in the back. Our clothes were similar; I didn't like it, but the fashion options in such a secluded town were extremely limited.

Something about my exit felt empowering. There wasn't anyone waiting at the gate to tell me _you can't leave_, or _it's too dangerous_. I had no hang-ups, having already said goodbye to my mother and not having anyone else I needed to wave off. Even the Vigoroth that guarded the town, which were now roaming in full force as opposed to this morning, had no say in where I came and went anymore. I found myself in a staredown with one, the first time I allowed myself to contest their gaze in the six years I stayed there. And, with a resolute stride, I was finally on the outside.

Route 101 felt much more familiar to me, now that I could take in the surroundings more casually, without the immediate threat of death. Able to more closely inspect the trees we passed, by, I saw several holes bored into them, about a dozen feet up off the ground. The tall grass I found myself enveloped in amidst the Zigzagoon was patchier, the further I let my vision soak in the distance. From what the sunlight peeking in would allow me to see, there was a clear path north for us to follow.

"Alright…" Brendan fumbled through his backpack, pulling out a small cylindrical canister, green label wrapped around with a symbol of a Pokéball peeking through his grip. With a press of his thumb, he released a spray that fogged the area around him, arcing his arm to spread a cloud surrounding the space. I had to ask.

"What are you doing?"

He turned to me, a light tilt to his look as he processed how to explain himself. The answer came off more simplified than I needed it to be.

"You've probably never seen this before," he said. "It's called a Repel. A chemical you could pick up in about any convenience store. You just spray it around and it keeps Pokémon from coming near you. It lasts longer depending on the type you're willing to purchase. Only the best from my old man."

"Oh, wow." I tried to keep my response from being arid.

"Yeah, most rookies probably wanna pick plenty of these up," he continued, striding through the same patch of grass I was attacked this morning. "Well, if you're willing to afford them, that is."

"_Kid._"

The voice rang in my head again; even though I've heard Willow in this way several times now, it still surprised me. This time, because I wasn't aware he could speak to me even while he remained in the Pokéball at my hip.

"_Are you listening?_" he asked. It would have been awkward to answer. "_I don't want to follow this one around. I despise him just as much as I do his father._"

This left me with questions, even though I couldn't ask them yet. Willow was clear with his hatred of Birch earlier. The Professor wasn't exactly my favorite person, but there was nothing in my brief interaction with him that warranted hatred. And, talking to Brendan was more annoying that it was appalling. But, I tried to keep in mind—this was how I felt about them as a human. A Pokémon probably sees the world differently.

"Hey Jade," Brendan spoke up after a passing moment of silence, once it became clear I wasn't going to respond to his remarks unwarranted. "I bet you never believed all those crazy stories I told you as a kid."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"Well, because they're pretty hard to believe," he shrugged. "Honestly, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about being a trainer, or about my dad's job. But it's impossible to keep my mouth shut about such amazing things. I mean, not everyone gets the chance to travel Hoenn with a Pokémon."

"Apparently not," I added, certain of the cost myself.

"Count yourself lucky. We get to see things those guys back there never will."

"_You have to abandon him somewhere,_" Willow interjected. "_I refuse to listen to him the entire journey._"

I was planning on going my own way at some point; the Professor's parameters were unclear, but he made it sound like Brendan would be returning to Littleroot at some point without me. So, patience was the best way to go about things, as far as I could tell. So, even though I wanted to tell him to be quiet (both him and Willow), I decided to play nice wherever possible.

"So those Repels," I struck conversation. "They just ward off all wild Pokémon? Are they foolproof?"

"Oh, definitely," Brendan assured, wiggling the emptied canister. "They hate this damn spray. The Zigzagoon around here won't come anywhere near it. And I've got plenty more where that came from."

I should have known to take everything he said with a grain of salt.

He sprayed the Repel just about everywhere around us, sure. But, I failed to notice that he didn't spray any of the Repel on_ us_. Meaning, a majority of the spray wafted in a cloud surrounding where we stood; it didn't follow us when we walked off. Worse yet, I let myself get distracted by his conjecture.

"My dad's big-time in Hoenn," he said, as I only vaguely listened. "I've heard people call him the most educated man on the continent. He's done so much field study, that he's discovered a new species of Pokémon. Really interesting stuff."

"Sounds like a lot to live up to," I remarked, trying my best to relate to him. I knew what it was like being the kid of a Gym Leader; it didn't sound too different to be Birch's.

"Nah," he scoffed at the implication that he had hang-ups. "My dad's always let me be a part of his research. He has me visit Oldale all the time on secret trips for supplies. And in a few years, he's letting me study in Rustboro City. Then I'll take up the reigns and become the continent's _next _biggest Pokémon researcher."

Before I could ask about Rustboro, another city I'd never heard of, I felt something cling to my shoulder, sending my senses into a panic.

Something fell from one of the various trees we traversed between on our trip towards Oldale. From the speed it fell onto me, I was led to assume it must have climbed out of the holes I saw up above earlier. The whole time I lived in Littleroot, I only ever heard people warn me about Zigzagoon; this was not them. Despite my excitement to begin my adventure, I couldn't help but dread to turn my head and face what climbed atop me.

It was a red figure, snakelike in shape but suctioned to my shirt with ten pale legs on each end of it, no longer than fingernails, clung to me. Beneath the crimson texture, which appeared like armor over its beige underbelly, were two eyes shaped like saucers on both sides of its head, pupils wide and black. Two needle-like protrusions stuck out its backside, swaying as it turned its attention to mine. Though I was frozen in sudden fear, I remembered reading about the species before in a book—Wurmple.

As I hoped to catch Brendan's attention without making a sound, the Wurmple seemed sensitive to my alarmed state. Its head leaned back slightly, eyeing me with a curious twist of its body, before a yellow point extended from the forehead between its eyes like a pointed horn.

"Bre—"

That was all I could utter before it was over.

As the Wurmple went to pierce my skin with its horn, there was a flash that forced me to blink in blindness. I opened my eyes to see myself stumbling to the route floor, a blur of green whipping between me and the Pokémon that detached itself form my shoulder. In my panic, Willow was released from his Pokéball, defending me from the Wurmple with a swipe of his tail, knocking the footlong insect to the base of a tree across from us. Between my ragged breaths, I could hear a huff of recognition, and ridicule, from Brendan.

"Oh, a _Wurmple_," he said. "I forgot they lived around here—that's a rarer find than the Zigzagoon. People say if they land on you, it's a bad omen. Their sting is poisonous."

The Wurmple was strewn across the ground, unmoving. It was unclear if my Treecko had damaged it to the point of being immobile, or if it was playing dead hoping we would leave it alone. Regardless, Willow folded his arms and stood between us.

"_Don't be so weak in the knees,_" Willow told me. "_Every time you encounter a Pokémon, I'll be released from that device to intercept it. Wild creatures prey on fear, so you'd do well to bottle yours up._"

"I know, I know," I whispered in frustration, hoping it was quiet enough for Brendan to ignore it. Picking myself up off the ground, I reached for my bag in search of something as he held up a hand in ridicule of the tiny creature.

"Most Pokes on this route aren't worth our time anyway," Brendan justified, like it was an excuse for his Repel to fail. "It gave your Treecko a reason to come out and play, though. That thing's not half bad."

"_I won't leave the field until combat with the opposing Pokémon has ended,_" Willow explained, standing off against the Wurmple. "_So, either leave this one be, or let me put it out of its misery for good._"

Though both of my traveling companions were downplaying the creature, I already made up my mind what I'd be doing with it, reaching into my bag for one of the Pokéballs the Professor's assistants outfitted me with. Clutching it in my right hand. It felt weightless and empty compared to Willow's.

"Seriously?" Brendan contested. "You're gonna waste one of those on a bug?"

Yes I was.

As I leaned over to face it, the Wurmple showed the first signs of movement, meaning it must have been feigning its own death in hopes we would leave it alone. It wriggled up to its legs, but was too slow to escape my danger-close approach. But, instead of inflicting further harm on it, I pressed the front of the ball into its back. The two halves detached, opening up and enveloping the Wurmple in a bright light, condensing itself into the sphere as it shut, the rim glowing a faint blue to indicate a successful capture.

My first catch.

"_So… you've decided to take me along, have you?_"

It was a new voice; hardly what I expected to hear come from a Wurmple. It was feminine, almost pompous in its volume. A voice that would be written in cursive if translated into text.

"_Well then,_" the Wurmple said. "_You're the first trainer I've encountered with an eye for potential. You've captured the only Pokémon you'll ever need._"

"_Those are big words,_" Willow interjected. I had no idea they could all hear each other. "_Considering I just knocked you to the dirt in one attack._"

"_Oh? Do I sense jealousy?_" She mocked him. "_I'm afraid you'll have to share the spotlight with me from now on. Speaking of, what's your name, young lady?_"

"Uh, Jade," I answered, staring at my Pokéballs with an extended fixation. Brendan looked at me like I was crazy.

"_Jade. I'll do well to remember that._"

I cracked a smile.

"Hear that, Willow? Manners."

"_Kissass,_" he scoffed.

"Jade…" Brendan finally approached the conversation. The judgement was clear all over his face, eyes squinted in suspicion. "Are you… talking to your Pokémon?"

I felt myself getting oddly defensive, shrugging.

"Well, yeah. You can hear yours too, can't you?"

"Sure, but…" the words were escaping him, but he still laughed at me in his befuddled state. "They're _Pokémon_. They eat, they sleep, and they fight. You don't have to talk to them all the time or anything."

"_What is that child going on about?_" the Wurmple ridiculed his statement. "_I love having others listen to me. What—does he think he's the only one worth listening to around here?_"

I held back my smile, watching Brendan turn towards the north to lead us back on our trip towards Oldale town.

"I know it's kinda shocking at first," he said. "But, if you ignore your Pokémon long enough, they'll just stop trying to speak with you."

"_Yes, and we all wish the same was true about you,_" the Wurmple quipped.

Oh. I could tell this Pokémon and I would get along swimmingly.

For the rest of the trip across the route, I kept a sizable distance between Brendan and I. He was probably frustrated, because there was no way for him to brag about his father's achievements from so far away. But, I found myself in better company with my Pokémon. Although I couldn't get Willow to come out and join the conversation, I released my newfound Wurmple from its Pokéball, letting it travel atop my shoulder across Route 101. As we travelled without the proper use of a Repel, we saw several Zigzagoon lurking through the tall grass around us. But, none of them dared approach.

"_That lot is still shaken up from the stunt you two pulled this morning,_" the Wurmple explained. "_The Zigzagoon around here try to climb into our burrows from time to time. You did my habitat such a favor, I thought I'd come out to meet you for myself. But, you gave me such a scare that I went on the attack without realizing it!_"

"You're fine," I assured her. "We're the ones intruding in _your _home, after all."

"_I've had dreams of leaving this place for a long time,_" she said. "_I'm not content climbing trees to eat the forest's berries my whole life. I have ambition, Jade. I want to evolve into a Beautifly._"

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "I've read books about how Pokémon evolve. I didn't know that's what Wurmple turn into."

"_They're simply divine creatures. In the sunlight, they glow and sparkle. They pollinate the flowers everywhere. They're the most free spirits in Hoenn, Jade._"

"That sounds so lovely."

"_It sounds too good to be true,_" I heard Willow remark crassly from his Pokéball. "_Because that's what it is. Pokémon prey on Beautifly the same as they prey on Wurmple. It might be a more interesting life, but it's just as dangerous._"

"_It's important to have a dream,_" the Wurmple retorted. "_By the way… I heard Jade refer to you as Willow. Was I mistaken in assuming you were a Treecko?_"

"He's a Treecko," I answered for him. "But Willow is his name. Speaking of, I've been trying to come up with one for you. How does Geisha sound?"

"_Geisha?_"

"I thought it sounded like a pretty name," I justified.

"_It's fitting,_" she answered, tone more subdued and wholesome. "_Geisha, yes. It sounds like a name becoming of my future form. I love it._"

"_This whole nickname business makes me sick to my stomach,_" Willow grumbled.

By the end of our conversation, we finally arrived in the first new town I'd visited in six years—Oldale. The grass varied in color, the more walked about patches of ground being a lighter green, the exterior of the town housing darker spots closer to the tall grass from the route we just left behind. At first, I was worried with how similar it appeared to Littleroot in structure; the architecture and townsfolk were uncomfortably familiar. But, the more I took it in, the more it began to distinguish itself. The center of town had a terraced platform of various wildflowers, vibrant with life and color. The closer I approached it, the sights became more foreign to me. Two buildings stood out as oddly industrial; one with a red roof, the other with a blue. They housed small, electronic signs that scrolled text across them:

_POKEMON CENTER_

_ POKEMON MART_

"Littleroot's a hick town compared to most of Hoenn," Brendan explained in my periphery, the enthusiasm with his voice slowly draining as the day went on. "You'll find a Center and a Mart in just about every town. The Mart is where to buy more trainer essentials when you run out—the Center is to help heal your Pokémon."

"Heal?" I questioned. "You mean they'll just do it for free?"

"Free health care," Brendan flaunted as we approached the Center, mostly because I led him there from my sheer curiosity.

To my shock, the glass doors opened automatically as I closed the distance; it must have appeared childish to someone more world-weary, because I heard an older gentleman across the street chortle at my surprise. The interior of the Center reminded me of the hospital waiting rooms I saw on television—white walls and floor, the only variety in color being a blocky, orange design streaking around the room. It was open-concept, tables and chairs where people congregated and had an evening meeting. To my left, a set of stairs leading to an upper floor. I walked towards the only area of note in the building, a raised bar at the back end of the Center, with an elevated computer-cabinet to the side. At the opposing end of the counter was a woman in white hospital wear, hair bundled in the back.

"Welcome," the woman said, a professional politeness to her tone. I stood across from her, stunned as two panels atop the counter parted, revealing a metal platform with six divots in it—Pokéball-shaped. "If you'd like, we can restore your Pokémon to full health. All you need to do is place them into our module."

I complied, planting Willow and Geisha's Pokéballs into the device, staring intently at the entire process. A line of blue light passed along the face of the module, scanning across the device like an x-ray. Once it dimmed, the woman gestured for me to pick them back up and return them to my person. She seemed gleeful; it was probably rare for her to meet someone that this was all new to.

"This is all a culture shock for you, huh?" I heard Brendan remark over my shoulder, reminding me he was still there.

"Definitely," I said.

"Yeah, well, you'll have some time for it to sink in," he pointed towards the stairs back towards the wall, now to my right. "Most towns don't have housing for travelling trainers. So the top floor to every Pokémon Center has rooms for them. We'll be staying here for the night."

The Center was full of surprises; it turns out, they weren't stairs. Brendan took the first step for himself, and it raised on its own automatically. I took the next, rising up to the second floor effortlessly—an escalator. The second floor of the Center housed a similar theme, but with a unique layout. It was a thin hallway that spread itself into a web. There were doors leading to rooms on each side, designed like a college dorm. Some of them were marked differently, signifying they were vacant.

Out of the presence of strangers, I was feeling my exhaustion finally; it was a long day. Before I could slink my way into a room and collapse asleep, Brendan snuck in one final, unfortunate conversation.

With his back to the wall, he slid beside me, reaching into his backpack to hand me something. It was a thin, red device, electronic in nature. Once it was balanced and facing up, the screen lit up on its own, a digital Pokéball spinning as a screensaver. There were various buttons and LED lights I couldn't figure out the purpose of.

"Jade," he began. "Do you know what this is?"

"Not a clue," I shook my head despondently.

"My dad asked me to give this to you. It's called a Pokédex."

I felt my innards tightening in frustration. Even after I was miles away from Littleroot, my adventure was still conditional. Birch said it himself—I saved his life. But, he _still _wanted to make use of me. He couldn't have just let me go of my own accord; there had to be a catch, like there always was with Norman back before I lived in Littleroot.

"Brendan—" I tried to interrupt, my words too weary to be heard at first.

"This little device is top-of-the-line Hoenn technology," he prattled on. "Every time you encounter a Pokémon, it will automatically register it into its database—its height, weight, habitat, physical characteristics…"

"Hey, Brendan—"

"Then, all you need to do is input any characteristics of note that the Pokédex didn't. Like if you saw the Pokémon do something of interest in your encounter. Then, the Lab in Littleroot will receive your data and add it to its stockade…"

"I'm not—"

"Then, when we've finally filled the Pokédex, we can process the information and make it public! Cutting-edge information about undiscovered Pokémon, available to the common man all because we went out into the wild and—"

I reached the end of my patience. It could have been that I was just tired, but either way, he wasn't listening to me. For the first time since I had to listen to Brendan rant and rave about Pokémon, in the six years I'd put up with it, I raised my voice.

"_Listen_ to me!"

He looked offended in his immediate silence, like I had hit him. I tried to adjust to it, calming myself down and taking a more reasonable approach.

"Look," I began. "That sounds like really important work and all. But I didn't ask to be a part of it. I didn't become a trainer for science. I didn't become a trainer for Professor Birch. And, no offense, but… I didn't become a trainer for you, either."

As his expression developed, it was clear that he never expected me to reject the offer, trying to process a coherent response. Instead, he ridiculed me with a scoff, waggling the Pokédex in front of me between his fingers.

"Jade, this is a _Pokédex_," he repeated, like I was a primitive being that didn't understand its value. "It's worth thousands."

"I'm not taking it with me, Brendan."

I shut the door on him and started to toss my belongings across the bed.

"_Man, what a prick,_" I heard Geisha remark. This was the first time having Pokémon felt like having imaginary friends supporting me in my head.

"_I warned you to abandon him before this, Jade,_" Willow reminded me.

"I don't need an 'I told you so'," I told him plainly.

"_You don't even know the half of it,_" he said. "_He's a product of his father—arrogant but still so clueless. That Lab is a dangerous place, run by dangerous people._"

Willow's hatred of the Lab in Littleroot was still a point of interest to me. He acted distant to everything around him—like he never left the Lab to begin with. But, I knew if I asked him directly about it, he wouldn't open up in the slightest; besides, I was tired. So, I let my pair of Pokémon conversing be the background noise as I drifted off, until I could no longer hear their voices as my consciousness trailed to slumber.

In hindsight, I imagine Brendan went to his room to plan how he would get payback for what happened the night prior. I wasn't prepared for the morning.

* * *

"Mornin', Jade. We're going to Route 103."

I awoke to the knock on my door, immediately met with this invitation from Brendan. Yesterday, I was under the impression that Brendan would lead me to Oldale town, then go home; perhaps he changed his mind.

Normally, I didn't have outbursts against people. I wasn't sure how to conduct myself after fighting back against Brendan last night. Which is why I found myself following him down the stairs out onto Oldale, headed further north. Part of me regretted being so angry with Brendan when it was his father I had a real issue with—but, I didn't feel bad enough to apologize either, since he was pushy. He was much more shortspoken than I was used to seeing from him, even as we passed by several unfamiliar sights (normally, he'd try to explain them all to me). Now that I had spent more than a few hours in Oldale, I was beginning to gain my bearings; the surroundings were starting to make sense. There was a gate to the west, leading to what looked like a new route. Similarly, there was an exit to the north that led to a hilly area, terraced with forest.

"Have you been here before?" I asked, just trying to make conversation to fill the blatant silence.

"Oh, yeah."

Maybe he thought his self-censorship wasn't so obvious. Either way, I honestly welcomed it. It made the trek up the trail onto Route 103 relaxing in a serene sort of way. I embraced the nature of it; there was a breeze unique to this place, so unlike Littleroot. A dirt trail led us upwards, passing by untraversed ledges of rock and earth sticking out underneath the plain of grass coating the landscape.

The more the elevation shifted, the more I felt like running every day in Littleroot paid off; my exhaustion was less than expected once we hit the plateau at the end of the route, a ledge above a sea of trees. A different set of scenery caught my eye, though. On my right side, there was a light glaring in my periphery, turning my attention to see a wide body of water, spanning out across my entire field of vision. Wide enough to be a lake, long enough to be a river; the other side looked insignificantly small from the distance. I was familiar with water from my childhood, but there wasn't a body in Littleroot. I never learned to swim, but I always felt a sense of majesty from water.

It was a genuine moment with nature, one that was undercut by what happened immediately after. As Brendan discarded his bag across the sturdy floor beneath his feet, he wringed his shoulder and turned to speak to me finally.

"You're familiar with Pokémon battles, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I said apprehensively.

"I was thinking about it last night," he said. "I feel like there's a lot to travelling with a Pokémon you don't understand yet. Wild Pokémon aren't the real threat."

My eyes finally caught notice of his hands, holding a Pokéball at his side.

"Brendan," I pleaded dully. "Come on."

"Don't," he warned, a haughty whine to his tone. "My dad sent me with you to teach you what it's like being a trainer. You think you've got this all figured out on your own—it's my job to teach you that's _not _true."

"_Don't listen to him, Jade,_" I heard Geisha from my hip. "_He just wants to battle you for the ego boost. He lost his power over you and he's trying to get it back._"

"I don't really want to fight, Brendan," I told him, making whatever appeal I could think to make. "Can't we just call it quits? I don't care if you tell people you beat me—I just don't want to go through the motions."

He scoffed at me. It almost made me want to fight him _outside _of a Pokémon battle.

"You don't get it," he shook his head. "You can't walk around with a Pokémon at your hip and not expect to have to battle anyone. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do in Hoenn—travelling with a Pokémon means you'll have to battle trainers."

Brendan raised the Pokéball, tossing it with an underhanded lob onto the ground right in front of him.

"Someone has to show you that you're in over your head, Jade."

From the fierce light, Brendan's Pokémon emerged. It was another creature I recognized from stories, but had never seen myself. Its rounded orange head housed feathers in the shape of a flame plumed atop its skull. With wings, too small to fly with, coating the hips of its body, it perched itself atop the route on two sticklike legs, staring across from me with empty, beady eyes. Torchic.

Before I could interject with a final plea, I heard a voice in the back of my head.

"_Jade,_" Willow spoke. "_Send me out._"

I reached for him, but hesitated.

"_Please._"

Again, this gave me a whole slew of questions. Questions that would have to wait until after this harrowing situation was over; I knew what a Pokémon could do to a person, and I wasn't about to leave myself defenseless against Brendan's Torchic. With a press of the button, I released the light from my Pokéball as well, sending Willow out onto the field.

There was a stare-down between the opposing beasts, neither of them approaching the other for several moments. In that time, I watched as Brendan folded his arms, a smirk of confidence clear even from my distance.

"I can't believe you wouldn't let my dad give you a different Starter," he said. "A Treecko that even _he_ couldn't train… let's hope you don't regret your decision now! Torchic, Scratch!"

As both Pokémon charged each other, I felt a dryness in my throat. A surge of anxiety was swelling within me; battles always felt like a blood sport to me, watching Norman eviscerate a trainer's Pokémon like it was a common courtesy. So, watching the Torchic leap in a charge, swiping its claw wide to Willow's dodge made me awash with worry. Battles didn't have to end in a Pokémon's death—but accidents happened.

This time, the Torchic swung its body out of the way of Willow's whipping tall, crashing vertically down towards the route and unsettling the earth beneath. The dance of claws and strikes continued, each attack as fierce as their bodies would allow. I felt like a spectator; while Brendan barked orders at his Pokémon, Willow was acting of his own accord, more seasoned to battles than I was.

But, I was distracted for more strange reasons, as well. Because, although the Pokémon were coming at each other with all their might, I could still hear Willow's voice, as calm and clear as always, ringing in my ears.

Except he wasn't talking to me.

"_Hey… you can understand me, can't you…?_"

The Torchic's dig into the earth left claw marks, as Willow managed to trip it, sweeping it off its feet with a tail swipe.

"_You're a Pokémon just like me,_" I heard Willow continue to plead. "_So, I know you're able to hear me, even now… I only have a single question._"

From its prone position, the Torchic's beak snapped shut, pecking Willow away from further attack and sending him onto the defensive, Brendan's Pokémon crawling its way to its feet wildly.

"_You're not the Torchic I knew, are you?_"

I found myself fixated on the subtle details of what Willow was saying; I don't think he had any clue I could hear him. While Brendan was growing increasingly frustrated with his Pokémon's performance, I was lost in what mine was saying. As Willow leapt to the side of a tree to avoid a strike, bark was streaking off the side from Torchic's nails.

"_Answer me!_" Willow's voice was growing increasingly aggravated, his moves in the battle equally rising in aggression.

"_That's strange,_" I heard Geisha remark from my pocket; apparently she could hear Willow as well. "_I wonder what that's all about._"

"What do you mean?" I asked her quietly.

"_You might not know this, but all Pokémon can communicate in this way,_" she explained. "_You're a part of our conversations because you have our Pokéballs. It's just… I have no way of understanding what that Torchic is saying._"

I watched more intently. It was struggling to keep balance through Willow's increased speed and fury with each ensuing attack.

"_I've talked to a lotta Pokémon,_" Geisha said. "_In the wild, trainer Pokémon, all kinds. But… this Torchic feels different. It's like it isn't even alive._"

"What…?" I questioned in genuine confusion. "What do you—"

"GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!" Brendan was shouting in frustration across the route, drowning out my thoughts and jolting me back into the moment.

Willow was pelting the Torchic with his tail, unrelenting in a barrage of strikes to each side of its body. With every exertion, I could hear his voice, exasperated but powering through with anger. The strikes were beginning to seem never-ending.

"Willow," I started, trying to impose myself over the sounds of the battle. "Willow, wait! Stop!"

Eventually, a strike hit the Torchic in the perfect way, causing it to collapse to the floor of the route. Silence fell over Route 103 once again with the battle's conclusion. I was stunned by my Treecko's display, the first signs of emotion I saw from it since I woke up from the Lab in Littleroot. Even Geisha was silenced by the attack.

But, I was fighting a different kind of battle in my head; I won. Even if it didn't feel like it. I could tell that Brendan definitely felt like he lost, though.

He was stunned; when he challenge me, there probably wasn't a single part of him that believed I could beat him. The way he demeaned me, and Willow, in his mind was shattered by the defeat, and I could see that he was masking his genuine shock with a coat of anger, face red with embarrassment and frustration packaged in one.

"DAMN IT!" He shouted, bolting past me and knocking my shoulder along the way, sending me into a stagger. I didn't have the chance to stop him, making an escape down the hill and towards Oldale, out of sight in only seconds.

He left the Torchic behind.

Rather than worry myself with Brendan's escape, the first order of business I needed to handle was Willow, turning my attention to him.

"That was extreme," I warned him.

He looked back at me with a yellow glare.

"_You haven't been a trainer for more than a day,_" he said. "_Pokémon battles are always extreme. We're the ones risking our lives; going into a fight half-assed is more dangerous. It was that kid's fault for not retracting Torchic before that point._"

I knelt down. With Willow, I knew I had to be assertive or he would run the entire adventure himself. But, some tenderness was necessary, in this instance.

"You knew this Torchic?"

I saw some recognition on his face—he knew we were listening now. His posture was reserved, as expected, but it served to calm him down, at the very least.

"_I was mistaken_," he said. "_It was raised in the same Lab as me. That's all._"

While Willow returned himself to his Pokéball unprovoked, I found myself looking down towards the fallen Torchic with a pang of guilt. My Pokémon spoke a serious truth; it isn't their fault when one of them dies. It's the trainer's.

"_Don't let it get to you too much, Jade,_" Geisha comforted. "_This is the life we choose to lead, when we're picked up by trainers._"

"Not every Pokémon gets to choose," I said defeatedly, thinking of Willow.

"_Even so, I'd rather travel with a kind trainer like you than a monster like him,_" she said. "_As harsh as it might sound, it's better this way. The Torchic doesn't have to deal with that kid anymore._"

It didn't make me feel much better, but I wanted to pick myself up, if possible. The adventure just got started, and I was already making myself feel bad for someone else's mistake. If there was anything I retained from Brendan, it's that I should consider myself lucky. I get to be a trainer. I should have to bear the responsibility of being one.

"Let's bury this one and head back to Oldale," I said. "The sun's just rising, and we can finally travel without Brendan breathing down our necks."

* * *

The following events occurred without Jade's knowledge.

After his defeat at the rookie trainer's hands, Brendan fled the scene in a sudden surge of embarrassment. All of the ego he built up and held over her was popped all at once, leaving them with a bitter aftertaste. Once he reached Oldale, he kept heading south, no less slower than when he fled the scene. Making sure to coat himself in a Repel, he travelled the entirety of Route 101 in a single hour, making it back to Littleroot town, his home, safely. Travelling past the curious townsfolk, he stormed straight towards the southern edge of town, reaching the familiar brick building.

Professor Birch's Laboratory.

Though the doors were almost constantly locked, Brendan was able to make it inside thanks to the key he carried with him everywhere, in the bag he picked up on Route 103 before leaving Jade behind. With a furious shoulder-check through the unlocked glass doors, he stormed his way through the main hallway, a few of the Professor's assistants perturbed by the tantrum.

Brendan found his father consulting several of his assistants on the third right he made. Birch turned his attention to his son, confused by the display.

"You're back early," he said. "Did something happen, Brendan—"

"Dad," Brendan said, his tone seething. "That Jade girl is trouble."

A look of simultaneous curiosity and suspicion arose on the Professor's face. At once, he waved his assistants off, and they scurried into one of the rooms on the right. Approaching his son, his tone was much more subdued, still fatherly.

"What did she do?" he asked.

"She refused the Pokédex. And that Treecko caught me off guard," Brendan answered. "I challenged her to a battle, and my Torchic _broke_."

Birch raised an eyebrow. To avoid embarrassing his son further, he took the situation seriously, though he was surprised to hear that the trainer he just gifted a Pokémon was capable of defeating his son's, which he trained firsthand.

"Well, whether it was a fluke or not, it sounds like the Starter Initiative is serving exactly as intended—giving trainers a suitable way to hold their own in Pokémon battles. I don't see what the issue is here."

"Dad," Brendan pleaded through his anger. "She treated me like _crap_. If she keeps parading around Hoenn with a Pokémon she took from this Lab, she'll run the Birch name through the dirt."

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Birch challenged. "She earned that Treecko."

"I told you," he said. "My Torchic broke. I want another, so I can pay her back."

There was a subtle understanding creeping onto Birch's expression, as he thoroughly processed the pros and cons of following through with his sons' request. Before long, he reached a decision, answering Brendan in an even quieter voice.

"Very well. We'll pick one out on the sub-level."

The pair made their way out to the center hall of the Lab, walking wordlessly towards a statue of a Pokémon perched at the end of a room, beneath an ancient painting that was framed and preserved above it. On the stand, the side facing the wall held a keypad that the Professor entered a combination into. Moments later, a section of the tiles beneath them shifted, revealing a rectangular platform large enough for the two of them to stand atop as it sunk into the floor—the elevator to the sub-level.

Brendan and the Professor were carried hundreds of feet underground until they arrived at the destination. Underneath Littleroot was the true lab—and it was bigger than the town it was hidden under.

Small habitats of bulletproof glass, dozens and counting, were on both sides of the pair as they travelled through the main hallway. Pokémon were housed in each, some of them interacting with the laboratory staff—these staff members being a mystery to the rest of Littleroot. Creatures one could find in Hoenn, and foreign Pokémon alike called the hidden Lab home. Beyond the habitats were the experimentation chambers; these rooms were more walled off and private. And, past that was the hatchery, their destination.

Birch twisted a lever downward on the safe-like door, pressing it inward as the steam from the airlock hissed and the room depressurized. Brendan walked inside, the space no warmer than a freezer.

Hundreds and hundreds of Eggs.

They were stacked in special holding racks, packed tightly and methodically, each labeled both in layman and scientific terms. Cameras lined every corner of the room for security purposes, the rest of the surroundings a pure silvery sheen, almost blindingly chrome. The Professor's son trailed his focus through the lines of Eggs, trying to look for a particular specimen like a kid looking through a shelf at the toy store.

At the end of the room were two tubes, a few feet in radius. Pokémon were trapped in the shatterproof glass—on one end, a Torchic, unmoving. The other, a Ditto.

"This is the last one I'll rent you, Brendan," Birch told his son. "If we release too many of these into Hoenn before they're ready, the League will shut us down before the operation gets off its feet."


	3. Part Three: The City

**Chapter Three: The City**

* * *

"Welcome to the Pokémon Mart! How can I help you?"

"Hi there. I'm here to buy some medicine. Whatever you have in stock."

While the return to Oldale town wasn't my proudest march, it had its purpose. For one, I figured it would be courteous to search for Brendan—see if he ran off somewhere I could find him. But I gave up on that pretty early. After that, I assumed I was free of him forever, which meant the adventure could officially begin. For that to happen, I needed supplies. The Pokémon Centers were nice, but Brendan made them sound few and far between. I needed healing items—something to keep my companions safe.

The clerk at the Mart was cordial, similar to the nurse working at the Center across the street. Shelves were stocked with town essentials—food, cleaning supplies, appliances. Just about everything someone could think of needing. Most of those things were stocked in shelves on only half of the store, though; the bulk by the counters up front were all Pokémon-related items. Food, merchandise, trainer appliances… the selections was overwhelming for someone like me, who grew up in a town with no general store. And, what amazed me further was the idea that there was a Mart like this in _every _town. With some nerves, I awaited the clerk's response on the opposite end of the glass counter. Their expression was perplexing, to say the least.

"Do you—have some sort of official business?" He asked me.

"Ah, well. I don't think so," I answered poorly. "I'm just a trainer looking to buy some medicine for my Pokémon."

The clerk registered my answer, gesturing towards the racks behind him—plastic cases of oddly-shaped canisters of varying colors.

"You're not from around Oldale, are you?" He asked. "Potions are… pretty limited here. We aren't allowed to give them away to trainers without official League business."

"League?" I asked.

"Yes, the Pokémon League."

I should have known. The League, in charge of officiating the blood sport known as Pokémon battles, apparently held a monopoly on Pokémon supplies. From what I could gain from the clerk's explanation, only people endorsed by Gym Leaders were allowed to purchase medicine—which meant the Center was for the other trainer peons. I considered playing the _I'm Norman's daughter_ card to get what I needed to keep my Pokémon healthy. But I decided against it; not only would it not have worked, but it was too demeaning.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said. The disappointment on my face must have been obvious. "I can offer you some Antidotes in case you or your Pokémon get poisoned by the Wurmple down south, but as far as Potions go, our whole stock each month goes out to the Pokémon Lab in Littleroot."

My head rose.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I hear they're doing some pretty cutting-edge stuff down there. So I'm sure this doesn't all go to waste."

"Interesting," I remarked, trying to mask my relation to Littleroot. "Well, thank you for your help anyway."

Exiting the Mart, I made my way to the center of Oldale, passing by the afternoon commuters on the grassy trail towards the terrace of flowers. At first, things were silent, and I was left to my thoughts to decide the next course of action. Then, I heard the familiar voices chiming in all over again.

"_I should have known Birch held all the spoils,_" Willow said, scorn clear in his tone. Ever since the incident on Route 103, he had kept silent and secluded within his Pokéball. But, when the topic of the Professor came up, he couldn't resist chiming in.

"_That's some tough luck,_" Geisha added. "_The goods all go to Littleroot… isn't that the town you grew up in, Jade?_"

"Yeah," I answered quietly. "But I've never seen those 'goods' coming in and out of town. It must be a secret back home."

"_Strange,_" she replied. "_I wonder what they use it for?_"

"That's what I'm wondering. Yesterday morning on Route 101… maybe I ended up saving someone way more important than I thought."

Well, a normal person would assume that a Professor holds at least _some _importance. But I never really dwelled on the possibility that Birch was doing something top-of-the-line in the hick town I lived in with my mother. He had influence—it reached farther than the places I'd traveled so far. But, that made me worried. He was a useful ally, but an equally dangerous adversary.

And I just sent his son home crying over a dead Pokémon.

"_Well, what's the plan now, Jade?_" Geisha asked. "_There's no way for me to become a Beautifly if we stay in Oldale the rest of our days._"

"We're heading west," I told them. "Wherever it leads."

* * *

Apparently, west led to Route 102.

It was, by far, the most expansive route I traveled on—between the three I'd been on, anyway. The trail was incredibly narrow compared to the first two, but it stretched on for what felt like hours (it made me question how many laps around Littleroot it would have been). There was a body of water up to the north, but circling around it didn't bear much interest. The water was stagnant, unlike the wide-sweeping river that was to the east of Route 103. Hilly and winding, I had to serpentine my way through the thicket, passing by several patches of tall grass that traced along my legs as I passed through.

As for wildlife, there wasn't much out of the ordinary to speak of for a majority of the trip. The creatures were becoming more familiar to me. Zigzagoon would show their faces here and there, but Willow and Geisha were enough to ward them from causing anywhere close to the damage they dealt me yesterday. Similarly, I saw holes bored into the trees where Wurmple lives. But I already had all the Wurmple I'd ever need.

Eventually, I encountered something of note. It wasn't a wild animal or a natural barrier—it was another trainer.

A boy, no younger than me than by a few years, ran up to me excitedly once I rounded a corner made by the placement of the trees across the route. A blue cap was covering his head of hair, running through the grass in shorts. I wasn't expecting to run into many other people across the route, so I was caught off guard.

"Hey there!" he welcomed me excitedly. "Name's Calvin."

"Hey," I echoed his welcome. "Jade."

"Nice to meetcha. You're a trainer too, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Great! Then I challenge you to a Pokémon battle!"

Honestly, my first thought was—that's it, just like that? He so casually offered up his Pokémon to risk their lives against mine. For most of my life, battles were a spectacle reserved for the televised gym battles. Little did I know, people all across Hoenn were having their own battles on a regular basis. So frequently that it was casual to ask another trainer to fight; it was just like Brendan warned me it was.

I had half a mind to turn him down. But, there was no way I could overcome my fears of battling if I refused every chance. If it was really true, that the only way I could travel Hoenn is if I had battle-ready Pokémon, I would have to bear that responsibility.

"_I'll handle this,_" Willow assured me, before I could even volunteer him.

So I sent my Treecko out to fight. And, on Calvin's end, he released a Zigzagoon. The battle commenced so suddenly.

"Zigzagoon, Tackle!" Calvin ordered. Now that I had my fair share of close calls against those rodents, their quick movements were less alarming to me. And, Willow fought plenty of Zigzagoon in his short time with me, dodging the initial attack with ease.

Again, I felt unhelpful standing by as Willow did all the work. I thought, perhaps I should call out the attacks to give him proper guidance.

"Willow, uh—" I stammered. "Pound, or—"

"_You really, really don't have to start this._"

I guess it's best to leave it to the professionals.

The exchange was short, and the conflict was brief. Like he promised me earlier, Willow was giving the fight his all, warding the Zigzagoon away and knocking it to the wayside every time it tried to charge towards him. But, even though he was putting in all his effort, there was less emotion fueling his movements, and it was clear from my vantage. For that reason, I didn't fear for Calvin's Pokémon, even though it was being handily defeated. The outcome was growing clear, as clear as it was that Willow wasn't planning on killing the Zigzagoon.

After the Zigzagoon was sent tumbling back towards its trainer a fourth time by Willow's tail, Calvin called it quits, holding up his Pokéball and returning his companion back to the device he attached to his belt. To my surprise, that wasn't the end of this whole deal. Calvin stepped across what was once a battlefield moments prior to approach me. With a smile, as graceful as the defeated could have, he extended a hand to me.

"That was a good match," he said.

"Yeah." I didn't want to patronize him or his manners, so I returned the courtesy by shaking his hand.

"Your Pokémon is really tough, Jade. Where did you catch it?"

"I didn't," I answered with stunted breath of hesitation. "It was a gift."

"Wow, lucky."

He reached into his pockets, offering money to me. Again with the surprises. I had _no _idea that there was money on the line with our match, either.

"Oh, uh—you really don't have to—" I tried to refuse.

"Nah, you earned it."

Thinking that Willow technically earned it for me, I figured that it would be rude to deny myself the cash. That, or I was just greedy as hell. Great. Now I could buy all the Potions the Mart wouldn't let me have.

Turns out, Calvin wasn't the only trainer on Route 103 looking for a fellow trainer to match themselves against. After that, I ran into Rick, a trainer privy to the Wurmple hidden amidst the trees. Next was Allen, and after Allen was Tiana. The further I trekked across the route, the more I started to realize my world was now vast. I only knew two trainers my whole life; one was my next door neighbor, and the other was my dad. Little did I realize, being a trainer was just a _thing _people my age did. The thought was baffling—but either way, I made bank off of Willow's victories.

"I think it's safe to say you're tough, Willow," I told him once we were finally alone again, no trainers in sight.

"_Of course,_" he replied. "_I never doubted that I was. All I ever needed was a vehicle to travel the world, and this would be the outcome._"

"_Is that what Jade is to you? A vehicle?_" Geisha ridiculed him, which I always enjoyed hearing. "_Someone needs to pop that ego of yours. Just wait until I evolve and upstage you, greenie._"

"_Really now? I'M the one that has an ego?_"

Their bickering was grabbing my attention, nearing the end of the route as the trees were beginning to open themselves up to more spacious patches of grass. Because of that, I was late in noticing that we were being trailed.

Luckily, I picked up on it before the creature was led into town following us. It turned one corner wrongly, and made itself known to my periphery. Slinking past a row of grass and into an open field for view, I caught a glimpse of an onyx-black canine, hunched in stealth, shoulders no higher off the ground than the local Zigzagoon. While the fur surrounding its face and chest were pitch black, most of its body was tufted by gray bristles, outlined by its red irises peeking through the dimly lit forest horizon. It was travelling no further than thirty feet from me at all times—eventually, I decided to interrupt my companions.

"Guys, we have company," I told them quietly.

"_What? Where?_" Geisha questioned.

"To our backs. I think it's a Poochyena."

"_Really?_" There was an odd giddiness to her voice. "_I love Poochyena. Those little things are so adorable._"

"I think it's hunting us," I responded.

"_Are you sure? I'm certain they hunt in packs like Zigzagoon do._"

Now that I acknowledged its nearby presence, it approached my location more boldly, outside of cover and with a head raised off from its lurched position. I found myself becoming more agitated.

"I don't know. I've never seen one before," I replied to my Pokémon hastily. "What do you think it wants with us? Do they eat meat?"

"_Most Pokémon eat meat,_" Geisha said with a chuckle. "_Would you like me to go ask its dining preferences, Jade?_"

"No, I want it to keep its distance and—"

"_Oh, for Gods sake,_" Willow interrupted, as a flash emerged from my hip, my Treecko exiting his Pokéball of his own accord. "_I'll handle this._"

The Poochyena didn't react aggressively to Willow's arrival, even as he approached the creature with a casual flair. They discussed something in a back-and-forth; this time, he was too far away for Geisha and I to eavesdrop on the conversation. After a fair share of time passed, Willow finally turned towards us, walking alongside the Poochyena.

"_She wants to join us,_" Willow said.

"Seriously?" I questioned.

"_Yeah. Apparently she's been following us for a while now._" He gestured to my bag, where I carried all my equipment. "_You should catch her so she can speak for herself._"

Looking down at the Poochyena, it was strange to me. It was docile, sitting there and staring up at me; but it didn't seem domesticated, either. Just compliant, waiting for my decision. I figured I shouldn't deny any help I could get. Kneeling down, pulling a Pokéball out of my bag, I pressed it against its back, entrapping it in the small sphere after a dense flash and _click _of the device.

It was silent at first, so I tried to speak to it.

"Uh… hello there."

"_Hi,_" it said back, enthusiasm clear in a low-timbre voice. "_Thanks for taking me up on that offer. The name's Spike._"

"Spike," I repeated, surprise clear in my response. "I'm Jade… you have a name already. That's new."

"_Yeah. It was given to me._" She said, waving it off like there was more to the story. "_Anyway, I saw you handle the other trainers on this route pretty easily. I've been waiting around for a trainer tough enough to offer myself to._"

It felt odd being called 'tough' by a Pokémon that could likely tear me limb from limb if I didn't have any companions to call my own. I received the same praise from the other trainers on the route: that I was somehow tough, since I was able to send out Willow to dispatch their opposing Pokémon. Maybe it was because I was born into a world all my own, but I didn't feel very tough, even when Willow was winning easily. It made me think that there was more to it—that there was something about being a trainer that I wasn't understanding yet.

But, I was in the presence of a new companion, and I didn't want to dwell on my questions without giving her a proper introduction to the group. It was funny thinking that my adventure already had a _group_.

"Well, Spike," I said. "If you can handle yourself in a scrap, you should make a good fit to our team. You'll be working alongside my other two Pokémon. My Treecko is named Willow, and my Wurmple is named Geisha."

"_Nice to meet you both,_" Spike said, her welcome stunted. "_Just so I'm not walking into anything complicated… is there a hierarchy here?_"

"_Yes,_" Willow said without missing a beat. "_I'm in charge._"

"_Oh! Is that so?_" Geisha responded mockingly. "_Maybe I should have said a few prayers before deciding to travel with Jade. I wasn't aware I was travelling with Lord Arceus in the flesh._"

"_Be quiet, bug,_" Willow shot back angrily. "_I'm no Arceus, but I'm something worth praising. Don't forget that, pooch._"

"_My name is Spike…_" the Poochyena repeated.

From what I've read, I knew that trainers were allowed a legal number of six Pokémon they can carry on their person at all times. I was already incredibly overwhelmed with three; six felt like way too many to handle. With all their banter, part of me wanted to tune them out. But, I remembered what Brendan said; most people just ignore their Pokémon, until they stop talking altogether. I didn't want it to be like that, so I let them bicker about their nicknames for as long as the travel time would allow.

Even though it overwhelmed me, I knew it was something I would get used to. I wasn't used to having friends, and I suddenly had three on me at all times. With any luck, travelling with my party would make me more sociable. For now, I listened.

"_Honestly,_" Willow said. "_I couldn't imagine myself being willingly nicknamed by a human. You're a strange Pokémon._"

"_It's not so strange. You have a nickname too, don't you?_" Spike questioned.

"_Well, not by choice._"

"_It's nice._" Spike added, something pensive beneath the words she spoke. "_I used to be a human's pet. It didn't work out so well, so this is my second chance._"

"_Really now?_" Geisha asked with intrigue. "_That sounds like a story and a half._"

"_It's a story and a half for another day,_" she responded. Damn. I was hoping to eavesdrop and learn something, but chances are it was more complicated than I knew.

"_I think you'll find being a trainer's Pokémon is better than being a house pet, Spike,_" Geisha assured her. "_I mean, look at us now! I'm as far west as I've ever travelled, and I would have never made it this far on my own! This journey could go on forever—_"

I froze in place, going from a brisk jog to an immediate halt. My belongings jostled in the bag across my hip, Pokéballs and all.

"_Wait, what happened? Jade, what is it?_"

While my Pokémon conversed on our journey, we finally arrived at the end of Route 102. We reached a new city, and the sight made my heart sink to my feet.

The grass was neat, finely kept, more than any other town I'd been in. To match the cleanliness of the town, there were walkways of actual concrete tile, the air fresh. The houses were suburban, well-kept with lawns and gardens of various size and variety. To my right, there was a sparkling pond of almost see-through water, free of all debris and muck from the stagnant body on the route behind me. Off in the distance, there was more water; a wide expanse on the southwest corner of town, marked by a clear boundary where the forest trees were blocked off from growing. Even the people walked neatly, along the crosswalks with their Pokémon in tow. I stared, and I don't know how long.

"_Kid?_" Willow spoke up again finally.

My words came out as a long-winded whisper.

"I know this place."

It was uncanny in my memory. I ran right towards the center, turning all degrees as my vision swept across the scenery. I knew the neat grass. I knew the walkways and the fresh air. I knew the ponds, both of them. I knew the people and the Pokémon.

My mom's words rung in my ears. She told me the name of this place, not but yesterday before I left. I'd heard it, many times, as a young child. It was no wonder this city was familiar to me. Because, while I spent six years in Littleroot, I spent ten here.

"Petalburg City."

I was trapped in my thoughts; my Pokémon responded, but I couldn't hear them. All along, it was right here. It had a name, and a spot on the map. The place I lived before Littleroot. Petalburg City, the home of my mother and father. For the last six years, I believed it was impossibly far. But, all along, it was a two-day journey on foot.

My fists tightened, and I lost all care that people were staring.

All along, Norman was this close. And, in those six years, he never visited my mom. He only got me a single present, and he sent it in the _mail_.

My legs propelled me towards the northern side of town, weaving my way through passerby and bystander alike. Again, all my Pokémon's interjections went in one ear and out the other. My attention was spotty at best, wrung from place to place as unwelcome nostalgia assaulted me; I walked here, I played with the other kids there, I cried once over there. Petalburg City was an old suit I hadn't worn in six years and I hated it.

I knew exactly where I was headed—to the one building I was never allowed to visit when I was a kid. It was a flat rectangular building, housing a level brown roof. There were wide glass windows, too high up to see out of from the outside, and an automatic door similar to the city's Center and Mart (which I passed on my charge towards the north). There were two signs—one out front, the other plastered on the side of the entrance. They both read: _GYM. _There was a list on the leftmost sign of registered trainers.

Passing by all the people who thought I had no business being near the Gym, I barged through the front; I was lucky the door was open, or I may have tried to break through it in my anger. The interior was set up like a traditional dojo—wooded floors and scrolls hung across the walls, various characters written onto them. There were trainers—in uniform, pulling Pokéballs off the racks to the right side of the room. They all eyed me like I didn't belong there, scowls apparent despite my blatant dismissal of their presence. A few of them approached cautiously.

"Hello?" one of them said. "What are you doing in here? The Gym isn't open for another few hours. You're—"

I ignored the rest. I saw him in the back, hunched over and lifting Gym equipment off the ground, placing it across the back wall methodically. When my voice was released, it was shrill from pent-up emotion.

"NORMAN!"

I saw him, his back still turned to me, flinch to a freeze, knelt over for a full second without any reaction—processing. Slowly, I saw the back of his black-haired head turn, panning to face his vision versus mine. The surprise was written all over him, his usual scowl lightened by a wide-eyed expression on display beneath his widow peak. The sleeves were rolled up on his red jacket, and his posture extinguished any casual warmth it held prior to noticing me. He was reacting slowly to seeing me again; I couldn't blame him, because I found myself frozen in place, too. Eventually, he smiled.

"Jade," he said in recognition. "Why are you in Petalburg?"

I wasn't sure how to answer—mostly because I didn't come here for a cordial chat. Then again, I didn't know _why _I ran to the Gym in the first place. It was an autopilot choice, driven by Norman-induced anger. As much as I'd like to deny it, he could see right through me, able to sense that I didn't have a coherent response. With an insightful glance, he was able to ascertain the reason for himself.

"Those are Pokéballs at your hip," he remarked, rising from his knelt position to approach. "Looks like you received a wild birthday present this year."

It felt like my birthday was years ago—the last two days had been crazy.

"I got these for myself," I spoke concisely.

"Oh?" He appeared impressed—I couldn't tell if it was a façade. "So you became a trainer after all. It's impressive you were able to travel all this way."

"Impressive?!"

I heard the elastic fabric of my gloves tighten as my fist condensed in anger. He wasn't approaching so casually after the outburst. I pointed out the door.

"You live a _day away,_ Norman," I hissed. "I made it here on accident! But this whole time, you could have visited Mom in Littleroot on a _weekend, _but you decided to hide here in Petalburg for _six years _instead?!"

Finally, the vitriol on the trainers on the sidelines seemed to vanish, followed by a plague of confusion on each of their faces. Like lost puppies, they looked to Norman for answers; then it hit me. They didn't know who I was. With a wave of his hand, he gestured his pupils to the doors behind him, one on each end of the back wall.

"Parker," he said. "Could you gather the others and prepare the back rooms? I need to speak with my daughter in private, if you wouldn't mind."

The trainer that initially called out my invasion into the Gym nodded, herding the other jacket-dressed adolescents, corralling them towards the back, where they fled into the back rooms of the Gym. Now alone without the eyes of prying pupils, I saw Norman decompress slightly, exhaling and considering his response in silence.

"I didn't know you thought I was hiding all this time," he said in monotone. "In truth, I was worried you were the one hiding from _me_, Jade. You chose to live with your mother, and it was only fair for me to give you your space."

"For _six years_?!" I repeated. "With nothing more than a check in the mail?"

"Gym Leaders don't have days off," he answered.

"Is that really more important to you?!"

"Maybe you don't understand what this job entails, Jade." His response came to me sternly, only stoking my frustration. "Running a Gym isn't a nine-to-five with vacation days and quiet evenings. We're one of the smallest Gyms in Hoenn, and we still get hundreds of challengers a day—we only televise the ones that make it to the final challenge. We answer to the League. I haven't been here all this time sipping on martinis."

"I don't give a damn about your job," I barked back at him. "If you couldn't leave, why didn't you tell me where you were? Why didn't you let _us _come to you?!"

"Because this job is bigger than me." His responses were resolute to a fault, and I almost couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth. "I have to run an entire district of Hoenn—Petalburg, Oldale, Littleroot—they're all under my watch. It's not just a sports arena. I train Pokémon, run security, show new trainers the ropes. Your mother didn't want to be a part of all that. And it's clear that you don't, either."

Letting my anger pilot my actions, I reached for Willow's Pokéball at my hip. And, for the first time since I carried them with me, they felt like weapons I could wager against others. I held it out in front of me towards Norman. I said something I didn't expect to hear coming from my mouth.

"Fine! I'll beat you at your own game!" I boasted in blind rage. "If the Gym is what's more important to you, I'll mop the floor with it and leave here with my own dad's badge!"

While I telegraphed my movements in anger, Norman had already reached into the side pocket of his jacket, pulling a Pokéball out from the inside. Before I could finish my challenge, he already released a bright light into the Gym foyer.

"Now you're speaking my language," he said. "If that's what you really came here to do, we can skip the pomp and circumstance and get right to the main event."

The gorilla-like figure laid prone across the Gym floor behind Norman, arms the size of tree trunks lurched in its lazy sprawl along the hardwood. I saw the same beast every night on the television for six years—Slaking, Norman's go-to lead. It was surreal to be standing across from it as a challenger, and exhilarating all the same. I felt a trainer's high for the first time; I was finally facing off against someone I really wanted to beat. Exchanging words with Norman was futile. The only way I could make him feel embarrassed and ashamed was if I beat him at the one thing he cared about. I held Willow's Pokéball out to release him.

But he wouldn't come out.

Instead of he usual unhinging and flash of a Pokéball, it remained stagnant in my hand, quaking my wrist like it was pressurized. The faintest vibration wriggled from it, buzzing like a heartbeat in my hands. Questioning if it malfunctioned, I batted the side of the Pokéball with my open palm.

"Willow?" I assumed it was my Treecko's own insubordination that kept the ball shut. "Willow! Get out here!"

"_I can't!_" it responded, his caution clear.

A sudden panic crept across me, as I realized that I was standing across from the Slaking, notorious for its brutality, without a means of defending myself. While Norman did his best to hide it, there was a smugness to his posture, and I felt my face growing flush, feeling the same embarrassment and shame I wanted to inflict upon _him_.

"Do you know what just happened?" He asked. He didn't have to—it was obvious how clueless I was. "Pokéballs are designed to make carrying Pokémon easier. But they also have protective measures. If you're facing off against a Pokémon too powerful, the Pokéballs will lock themselves to prevent your partner's slaughter."

I was piecing it together as he was saying it, but he had to put the nail in the coffin for me. With two fingers outstretched towards me, he proclaimed:

"You know what that means, Jade. Your Pokémon aren't powerful enough to face mine. It's too early for you to challenge me."

My mind was stirring with an overflow of emotions. Above all else, I was frustrated that Norman knew exactly what that declaration would do to me. He intentionally backed me into a corner to teach me that the only way I could make it through to him was if I beat him in a Gym battle. Lost in purpose standing off against Norman, and fearful of the Slaking still imposing its presence, I wasn't sure what else to do.

So I ran off.

It was an uncool response to Norman's taunts, I admit. I wanted nothing more than to barge into his Gym, demonstrate how much I'd grown without him noticing, and beat his Pokémon into the dirt in front of his entire posse. Using the Running Shoes he sent me in the mail only six months ago, I fled. The shoes I used to run laps around my Littleroot prison, I distanced myself from Norman yet again. Familiar with my surroundings, and uncertain in everything else, I ran west towards the pond, looking for a spot where I could be alone and process my spectrum of emotions the rest of the day.

It was mid-afternoon; I didn't care to keep track of the exact time. I lapped around the pond for hours, walking aimlessly and trying to manage my breathing. I must have been a sight to behold for the couples having a day out; ragged and ashamed.

The more I put thought into it, I could pinpoint what bothered me the most about my interaction with Norman. It was the fact that I could travel so far from home, farther than I knew existed, and still be unable to change things. I still felt trapped.

Trying to avoid depressing thoughts, I wandered to the outskirts of Petalburg, past the pond and right at the boundary of trees. While I was scoping out a good spot to rest in my intense thinking, an ornery old man thought it wise to speak up.

"What are you doing?" he yelled. "You're gonna get yourself hurt, loitering that close to the forest at night!"

"Leave me alone." I called back emptily. To his credit, he did.

I sat myself down, back pressed against the trunk of a tree, staring into the forest that stretched on for miles. It appeared as endless wilderness before me, helping me clear my mind as best I could manage. But, I was still stuck in the moment, dwelling on what I could have done differently to get a better reaction from Norman.

Eventually, the atmosphere became less silent. The peeps and hoots of nighttime nature began to fill the forest, and it started to feel less lonely. My eyes glazed over, and without my notice, one of my Pokéballs was released from my side. Sitting there beside me, eyes aglow in the dimming scenery, was Spike. She waited by me patiently, like a trained animal awaiting a treat. I glanced at her passively.

"_I didn't know your father was a Gym Leader,_" she said.

"I didn't know Pokémon knew what a Gym Leader even was," I remarked back, turning my attention back to the forest. It was quiet for a few more minutes, but my Poochyena remained out of its Pokéball.

"_You know, my old owner lived in Petalburg,_" Spike spoke up again in a subdued tone. "_He caught me on Route 102 one day, because he wanted a pet for his kids. They taught me all kinds of tricks, housebroke me—the whole thing._"

"Sounds like a comfy life," I said back.

"_More comfy than most Pokémon,_" she reminisced, memories flashing behind her eyes, watching the same forest scenery as me. "_It would have been a good deal for some. But it wasn't the life I wanted. I was excited to be caught because I thought it meant I could travel with a strong trainer…. I couldn't stand being a lapdog. It felt like, the longer I sat still, the more of my life was slipping away._"

I knew the feeling well. Littleroot taught me what that was like.

"_So, one day, I left,_" Spike continued. "_I returned to the only route I ever knew. Probably broke those kids' hearts. But I had to go my own way—not theirs._"

"That's deep." I said, like I was talking to an old childhood friend.

"_I guess I'm trying to say that I know what it's like—turning out different than the way you were expected to. It'd be hard for any Pokémon to be abandoned by a pack leader._"

"Thanks, Spike." I told her genuinely, folding my arms over my knees, retracted up towards my chest as I clung my legs. "You're wrong about one thing, though. Norman isn't my pack leader. I lead my own pack."

I felt a weight appear on my back, a familiar one. Geisha, freeing herself from her Pokéball, climbed up to my shoulder with a skitter of her ten tiny legs.

"_That's the spirit, Jade!_" she encouraged. "_You can become twice the person that asshole expected you to be. You'll grow more if it's on your own terms, anyway._"

Admittedly, I felt a fluttering in my stomach that was unfamiliar to me. I never acknowledged how tough it was growing up in a town without friends my age—or friends in general. I couldn't tell how much I needed them, until I had them in the form of Pokémon. It was all too strange to me. I only had Geisha with me a day and a half, and Spike even less. But it felt like they were friends I had, and needed, my whole childhood. My anxieties were put at ease, and they validated me.

Catching my intrigue, I saw Willow leaning against and adjacent tree, outside of the device he despised, eavesdropping in on all the encouragement.

"Anything to add to all of this, Willow?" I asked, smirk peeking out.

"_Only one thing,_" he said. One thing was more than I expected. "_Something my pride is forcing me to admit. The last few days taught me that I was strong—I mopped the floor against every Pokémon we came across. That Slaking was proof of my arrogance. I must be leagues weaker than I thought I was._"

"Hey, I know the feeling," I assured.

"_Well, I'm not happy with the outcome,_" he said, eyes opening to a glow. "_I want to get stronger. Strong enough that no damn Pokéball can tell ME who I should and shouldn't fight._"

"I'm glad you said that," I told him, ready to share what had been on my mind wandering around Petalburg all this time. "This whole time… I thought I'd be fine with just leaving Littleroot and doing my own thing. But I won't be satisfied until we can send Norman's Pokémon packing."

"_That's poetic,_" Geisha mused. "_Defeating the artist in his own craft. Love it._"

"We need to train. And after that, we need to travel. I'm sick of being out of my element. If we have to prove ourselves through Pokémon battles, we're going to be the best damn party Hoenn has ever seen."

"_Damn straight,_" Spike nodded along. "_That's exactly what I signed up for._"

"We'll become strong. Strong enough to challenge the Gyms scattered across the continent. Then, when we feel ready, we'll put Norman in his place."


	4. Part Four: The First Catch

**Chapter Four: The First Catch**

* * *

I awoke prone across the borrowed bed inside Petalburg's Pokémon Center, unsure of the time. After my standoff against Norman was cut short, I wandered late into the night until exhaustion, eventually ending up at the Center to collapse asleep in a room upstairs. It took me a few minutes to regain my bearings, remembering the embarrassment I felt yesterday and stuffing it back down again moments after. It was dark, and all I could see peering through the room was a digital clock, my eyes too blurry to ascertain the time. My hand traced off the bed, trying to get a lay of the land; eventually, they found purchase on my belt, Pokéballs still strapped to it. Sliding onto my feet, I got around for the day ahead of me—fresh set of clothes and all. With all the necessary arrangements out of the way, I left the room and marked it for housekeeping to clean; I wasn't planning on coming back.

Striding down the stairs, my mind wandered with possibility. What would I do today, now that I had no further business in Petalburg? I had time to consider my choices, since it seemed my Pokémon were still asleep. Little did I know, whatever I decided upon wouldn't happen today.

When I made it to the main floor of the Center, it was almost entirely empty, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle. Other than the receptionist in charge of holding down the fort so early in the morning, there was only one other person—this person caught my attention. Mostly because they were fixated on my entry.

The boy was about my age, but there was something young about his demeanor, sitting at a table to the right side of the Center. His auburn hair was faint in color, almost making it seem greenish in the fierce white light of the facility. He was pale, skin snow-like in contrast to the lavender jacket wrapped around his thin wrists. To his side was a burlap bag, old and patched. There was an aura of intrigue about him—partially because he was staring across the room at me behind bright blue eyes.

"Are you Jade?" I heard him ask loudly. The question froze me in my tracks, halting me feet away from the front exit. When I looked back to him, he was wearing a cold demeanor, an unwavering weight to his glare at me.

"That's my name. Yeah." I responded, trying to keep my cool as well.

"Word on the street is—you're an up-and-coming trainer," he said, eyes slowly falling upon the table in front of him, legs crossing underneath it. "Here and there, people are talking about your exploits."

I turned away from the door, walking up towards the table he was sitting at. I was perplexed, and found myself getting oddly aggressive with the stranger.

"Who are you?" I asked plainly. He wouldn't meet my gaze.

"My name isn't all that important," he hummed back, reaching into his bag. To my surprise, he plopped a Pokéball onto the table, clutched in his palm. "All I came here to tell you is that I'm looking to hire you for a job."

Without hesitation, I slammed my hand onto the table, arcing my arm through the air for added force. Everything jostled, including the boy, his demeanor crumbling immediately. His legs uncrossed, shoulders hunched as a kneejerk reaction to the aggression. He looked up at me, eyes like sad puppies.

"_Who are you?!_" I repeated sternly. "Did my father send you here?"

"Uhm, no, I—"

"How do you know who I am? What are you doing here? Why are you demanding things from me?"

I watched him look at me, back receded the entire way into his chair. His eyes were wide, upper lip bit as a defense mechanism against my incessant questioning. The reaction made me feel bad for even asking the questions, an almost pathetic display that instilled an immediate guilt. His demeanor had changed completely, arms sprawled out across the table to give me a more honest pitch.

"You gotta help me, Jade," he pleaded, words rapid. "I don't know who else to turn to—I'm at the end of my rope and—I don't know if—I just thought you'd—"

"Wait," I held a hand out. "Slow down there," as I tried to speak calmly, I let out a sigh, relieved that I wasn't in over my head with a trainer two days in a row. Hardly used to having to deal with anxious people, I did my best to move steadily into the chair, sitting across from him in preparation for a more cordial conversation. "Let's start from the beginning. Who you are, and what you're up to."

"Uhm, okay—right," the boy's hands clasped together, locking themselves under the table as he sat across from me with stiff shoulders, eyes not meeting mine. He spoke much more slowly, intentionally. "I'm Wally. I grew up here in Petalburg and—well, I want to become a Pokémon trainer."

"Wally," I repeated, trying to come off as more personable. I must have terrified the poor kid by assuming he came here with nefarious intentions. "Nice to meet you. What else can you tell me?"

"I… can tell you that I need help?" He answered unconfidently, starting to speed up again. "Look, it's a long story, and I might skimp on the details—I've wanted to go out and do my own thing for a while now, but my parents won't let me leave this city because they think it's too dangerous. They won't let me go unless I can prove that I can take care of myself—even though they don't want to give me the chance—So I tried to plead my case to this town's Gym Leader, and I've gotten myself into a whole _new _mess, and—"

"Wally?"

"Y-yes?"

"I need you to bring it down here," I said, gesturing to a more medium level. His look in response was apologetic, and he processed with a flutter of his eyes.

"Okay, long story short," he adjusted his explanation. "This Gym Leader told me that he would sponsor my journey if I was able to catch a special kind of Pokémon—it's called a Ralts. And, I've been trying for weeks to find one on the route to the east, but it's impossible. Worse yet, he only gave me a single Pokéball to catch it. My deadline is only a day away… and I just can't do this alone. So, that's why I came here to find you. You're a trainer—a _real _trainer. I figured you'd be able to help me."

I heard his story, awash with empathy. My pity was replaced by a desire to help him, certain that becoming a trainer was far more difficult than it needed to be. But, there were still perplexing holes in his story. I leaned in for answers.

"Listen," I began. "Wally. I want to help you be a trainer. Really, I do. But you knew my _name_. Where in the world did you learn it?"

Wally looked back at me, confused. With a slow finger, he rose his arm to point towards the door, finger shaking the faintest bit hovering above the table.

"It was on the sign…?" he said. My jaw practically dropped, leaning over, arms crossed over and elbows striking the corners. He grew scared again, from the intensity of my gaze.

"Sign? _What _sign?!"

* * *

After our conversation, I insisted Wally lead me to where he read my name. To my dismay, we ended up at the last place I expected to be brought to—the exterior of the Petalburg Pokémon Gym. My glove sprawled across the side of the building, I peered into the names etched into the concrete, embroidered by a black box with a Pokéball-colored trim. Reading the Gym's fine print, I found something that wasn't there yesterday:

_Endorsed Trainers:_

_ Jade. _

In Hoenn, trainers were not permitted the resources necessary to travel great distances. Healing items were a pipe dream for most; the only exceptions were trainers officially sponsored by the region's Gym Leaders. I wasn't allowed into Oldale's stash yesterday because I wasn't recognized as a trainer important enough to need them. And, overnight, under my nose, that changed.

Without my knowledge, Norman endorsed me.

Wally must have been confounded out of his mind, seeing the surprise painted across my face as I stared intently at my own name for over a minute. After I processed how it got there, my shock turned to anger. I was furious that, after embarrassing me readily, my father thought it would repair my ego to receive his blessing. Not conscious of my company, I exhaled a phrase in exasperation.

"Son of a bitch."

To make matters worse, Norman must have noticed me standing outside of his Gym. Because, without me noticing, he was standing beside the sign, reclined across the wall to the opposite side of me as Wally.

"Welcome back, Jade." He said steadily. "You ran off yesterday before I could congratulate you on your Pokémon League endorsement."

I kept my sight away from him, still staring at the wall in front of me with eyes glazed over. In my periphery, I saw Wally standing by, equally shocked by Norman's sudden presence. He remained silent, not understanding my dynamic with the Gym Leader, but still conscientious of the tension building between us.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked, voice dry and quiet.

"Well," he said, hands in his pockets, words sounding measured and practiced. "I thought about what you said yesterday. About beating me at my own game. You can't do that without going through the proper channels. I thought it'd do you some good to give you the chance."

My gaze left the wall, but took to the floor. Tempering my breaths and preventing myself from being overwhelmed by him again, I kept calm. I wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes I did yesterday—letting him get me worked up just so he could put me in my place. I had to let him wager his power over me. _For now._

"Your funeral," I told him, assuming he expected a thank you.

"Maybe." He replied enigmatically, managing to get the last word in. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could tell his attention left me—like an immense pressure was lifted from my shoulders and I could breathe freely, separate from judgement. I saw Wally falter from the corner of my eye, and I suspected Norman was eyeing him next.

"I gave Jade this spot for another reason," he said. "It was to give you something to look up to, Wally. She's living proof—if you want that endorsement, you have to _earn it._"

"R-right," Wally stammered in response. "I understand. You're right."

"That's six days now," Norman said, warning clear in his town. "You've held onto the Pokémon I lent you for six days. I need it back tomorrow—prize or not."

"Yes sir. I promise that I'll have your Zigzagoon back by—"

Interrupting his unintentional stalling, I reached for Wally's arm and forced him to choke up the last few words he had for Norman. Confused, he was led away from the Gym, as I pulled him towards the south of Petalburg, not looking back.

"Let's go get you that damn Ralts, Wally."

"Yeah, okay," he responded passively. "Th-thank you."

"Jade," I heard Norman call out to me again.

I stopped and listened.

"I'm glad those Running Shoes were a perfect fit," he said.

I proceeded.

* * *

Eventually, we made a left towards Route 102's entrance to the east of Littleroot; it felt funny, Wally and I dragging each other all across Petalburg. It was the first welcome wave of nostalgia I felt being back in my childhood town. I didn't remember ever seeing Wally before, but I could tell he was as familiar with the surroundings as me.

"Sorry for getting you roped into all that," I admitted to him, feeling a genuine guilt for having him seen our family squabble. "It's complicated."

"Oh, it's fine, really," Wally assured me, with the first bit of certainty I heard in his voice all day. "I'm just grateful you're humoring this… I've tried asking the other trainers Norman has endorsed before, but none of them bothered helping out. Not nearly this much, anyway."

"I get what you're trying to do," I told him honestly. "I had to raise hell back home to be a trainer. I wish someone helped me."

Sympathy was written all across his face—he was affected by the small details I told him about my life. But, trying to avoid making this endeavor a pity party, I tried to shift the topic back to the task at hand, sitting down in the grass on the eastmost border of Petalburg, imploring that Wally follow suit across from me.

"So, tell me what you know about this Pokémon you're trying to find," I said. "I've never heard of it before."

"Its name is Ralts," he answered, shifting modes to recall what he knew. "When Norman told me to find one, I read up about it. Although it's super-rare, they've been spotted around Petalburg in the past. Small little things that walk on two feet— and they're white like ghosts."

"Are there any more details you can think of?" I asked.

"Yes… they're the subject of a few myths in Hoenn. People say they have psychic abilities. Lifting objects with their mind, reading people's thoughts… it's said that they respond to other creature's emotions."

"You mean they're, like, empathetic?" I questioned, skeptic of myths.

"More than that. They feel what the things around them feel."

"Right," I pondered, the creature still not ringing a bell in all my years of reading up on Pokémon. Of course, Norman had to give Wally a doozy to capture, something only recorded upon in hearsay and mythology. It was clear that I wouldn't be able to give Wally the answers he was looking for from my experience alone.

So, I turned my attention to the Pokéballs at my hip.

"Sound familiar to any of you?" I asked.

"_Hey, don't look at me,_" Willow answered, audibly separated. "_I haven't been out of Littleroot any longer than you have. And I didn't agree to helping this kid, anyway._"

"_Sorry, Jade. I can't say it rings a bell,_" Geisha added, giving the question its due consideration. "_I grew up on a dull route—no myths or legends to speak of. Just Zigzagoon hordes and Wurmple hiding in holes._"

Briefly, my attention was on Wally, who was fixated on my face as I listened to my Pokémon. It was the first time someone seemed visibly amazed by the conversation they couldn't hear—pretty much anyone I caught staring at me when I spoke to my party looked at me like I was crazy. But, Wally was intent on idolizing the action, like a fan admiring a sportsman's feat they couldn't perform themselves. It was clear—Wally _wished _he had a slew of Pokémon he could talk to. Before I could call him on it, I heard the answer I was looking for.

"_…I think I know what this kid's talking about,_" Spike admitted finally.

With a nod, I turned to my company, holding out the Pokéball with a slide across the grass border of Petalburg.

"Give this a listen," I told Wally. He shook his head, complying, the tinge of excitement showing through the cracks of calm across his face. He reached for the Pokéball, only tracing a finger across the side.

"Hello?" he questioned. The confusion towards the process was too familiar to me. "Is this how this works…?"

"_I can hear you loud and clear,_" Spike assured him, his eyes housing wonder. "_I lived on Route 102 for a time. You were told to fetch a Ralts, right?_"

"Yeah…" Wally answered, still clearly processing that he was talking to a Pokémon. "Have you ever seen one before?"

"_I haven't,_" she answered. "_But any Pokémon that grew up on Route 102 has heard about Ralts. They were cast out of the habitat because of their psychic power and humanlike behavior. There hasn't been a Ralts on the route in the time I lived there._"

"What else have you heard, Spike?" I asked, soaking in Wally's reaction to calling my Pokemon's nickname. "You're our expert here."

"_They're more a myth to me than a Pokémon,_" she struggled to recall important details. "_But, this kid was told to find this thing before tomorrow, right? We'll never find one if we spend all day searching on Route 102. But there's another place we can look._"

"Where?" I questioned.

"_Well… we could go hunting off the route._"

"Off the route?!" Wally spoke up, his surprise elevating his volume; I motioned for him to bring it back down to a whisper. "We—we can't go _off the route_," he insisted with a hiss to his subdued tone. "Trainers aren't allowed out there."

"_It's a no man's land for people and Pokémon alike,_" Spike explained. "_No established habitats, no food chain. There's no telling what we could come across out there. But that's the only place a Ralts could survive after they were kicked out of Route 102._"

I looked to Wally, and I could tell he didn't like the blind acceptance I wore across my face, offering an innocent shrug.

"It sounds like our best shot to me," I justified.

"I don't know…" he hesitated. "I really want to be a trainer, but I don't think it's worth going to jail for…"

"That would only happen if we got caught," I told him. Oh crap. Was I a bad influence? "It's probably not heavily monitored if it's illegal to be there. As long as we're careful, it couldn't hurt to give it a shot."

As he thought through the decision, I could tell that there was a notable turmoil in Wally. He was kindhearted to a fault, and didn't want to give people any trouble by breaking rules and going off-route; but, I think what superseded that for him was disappointing the only person who agreed to help him. That, and the harsh deadline Norman set was the nail in the coffin to his choice.

"Alright," he finally accepted. "We go off-route today. Then, if we don't end up finding one, it'll be easier for me to accept it wasn't meant to be. But… we need to be really careful. We could run into crazy Pokémon out there, Jade."

"Yeah. We're counting on finding one of them, aren't we?" I asked, smiling. In truth, I was enjoying being in company that was so out of their element; all my life, I was always the most lost person in the room. "Don't worry. We'll take precautions."

By then, I made peace with the fact that I was endorsed by Norman—not because I forgave him for it. But, it would prove to have its uses. If I could use the resources Norman permitted me for helping Wally succeed, it would be well worth it. Partially because that meant that Wally would _also _be upstaging him by catching a Ralts.

Now that I was properly recognized by Petalburg, I took the opportunity to visit the town's Pokémon Mart for the first time. The clerk was cordial, like they all seemed to be so far. I told them my name; my name was on a list. And, they gave me access to the stockade behind them in the glass. I made it several days without spending any of the money my mother lent me, but that streak ended with my purchase of various Potions and Repels, plus plenty of rope in case we needed to climb, enough to outfit my bag with the necessary supplies for off-route travel.

When I came out of the Mart to meet Wally, waiting outside, I think he was stunned to see how much I bought for the journey. As we made our way back to the edge of town, I shook a Repel canister, hearing it click and clack internally like spray paint. Then, I held it out towards him.

"This ought to keep you safe," I told him. "Hold your breath for a second."

"Oh—okay," he complied with puffed cheeks.

"Eyes closed, too."

I coated his exposed skin with the spray, like applying sunscreen. The pressurized chemical must have been cold to the touch, since he flinched stiffly once I started applying it, a cloud starting to waft away with the wind. After I released the button, he turned away and gasped for air, coughing.

"Alright, now what about you?" he asked.

"I'm saving the rest in case we need it."

"How come?"

"If we're hunting a Pokémon, they won't let us get close if we're wearing repellant," I explained. "This way, I can sneak up on the Ralts if we actually find one. It will move in the opposite direction of wherever you approach it from, so maybe I can catch it off guard."

"Oh, wow… that's really smart," he nodded, slowly becoming more comfortable with the idea of breaking the law on our mini-adventure.

"We'll walk onto Route 102 like we're going on any old Pokémon hunt. Then, when there aren't any prying eyes on us, we'll head north off-route."

* * *

We were so focused on the task at hand, that we were late to notice how overcast the sky above was. After the natural boundary, a forest forged around Petalburg, opened up, the land felt far more vast than I ever considered it could be. Hoenn's towns were constructed on the low-elevation plains of the continent, the routes being the only trails between them; travelling off the route meant travelling across Hoenn's more mountainous regions, that reach heights people haven't discovered before. I read a book about it—the theme of the book was to never travel off-route.

The trees were more spaced out, seldom in the small patches of fertile soil between the rocky ridges. My distant vision was fogged by the depth of the mountain range, too far to perceive all at once. Compared to the route I traveled with Brendan north of Oldale, it was much more difficult to traverse, both because of the rough footing and the elevation.

It impacted Wally more than me; not to imply I had an easy time scaling the off-route heights. It was a struggle—far from running laps around Littleroot. But for Wally, he was two dozen feet behind me at all times, slipping and struggling, not privy to working his body so harshly. As we traveled, I kept Spike out of her Pokéball, traveling in tow. I left her at my side in order to pick up on potential scents, on our hunt for unfamiliar Pokémon.

"_We shouldn't travel uphill for too long,_" she told me. "_Most Pokémon can't live at a high elevation. We'd be better off scouting the base of the mountain._"

Our travel time numbered a few hours, going well into the afternoon. To my surprise, we didn't see any Pokémon off the route—I was led to believe that there were innumerable monsters lurking just outside of the Hoenn towns. It made me question if the forests surrounding Littleroot were like this, if people lived in fear from an invisible force that wasn't really there.

It was becoming late in the afternoon; it was too cloudy to tell either way, though. The first alarming sound I heard for hours was a hacking cough echoing through the forest. I twisted around in haste, seeing Wally collapsed to one knee.

I practically dove back down the hill, Running Shoes scuffing across the dusty trail, skidding to a halt and latching onto Wally's shoulder. He was catching his breath, slowly, inhales stunted.

"Are you alright?" I asked hastily, unsure of how to handle myself. "What's the matter? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine—" Wally assured between coughs, unconvincingly. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"It's alright… it goes away when I catch my breath," he said, getting himself back up onto his feet with a momentary stagger. "It's just my asthma."

"What…" For the first time, Wally made me feel in over my head. Having him follow my directions, almost blindly, was a confidence boost that motivated me to take the lead on this catch. But, he never told me that his health could be at risk on this trip. "_Wally…_" I said tiredly. "We have to get you back to Petalburg."

"No, no. Really, I'm fine—"

"You shouldn't be up here if you have trouble breathing. If you wait back on the route, I'll keep looking on my own."

I felt a hand gripped to my wrist—a resolute grasp. The first sign of fight in Wally I'd seen since I met him, and it was clear in his eyes that he was serious, stuffing down whatever fear and worry he had to assure me. Even so, his voice was unsteady.

"Jade, I know why Norman gave me this job," he said. "It's because he thinks it's impossible for me to get it done. Nobody wants to see me succeed—they think I'm too frail to handle myself." Shaking his head, there was the faintest sense of desperation. "I can't prove them right. Let me help you."

My emotions were complex; I wanted to console him, encourage him, and apologize all in the same breath. His disposition wore me down over the course of the day, until I started to realize that Wally really was different than the other people I met on my trip so far. He was invested in becoming a trainer, as obsessed as I was. Not only that, he was unmistakably kind to people and Pokémon alike. And, like me, no one wanted to see him succeed. So, instead of babying him and making him feel beneath me, I answered his plea with a simple nod.

"Wally," I repeated his name, jostling him only a little. "You can get this job done. You just need to dig deep."

It was just beginning to rain. And, before I could feel discouraged about our chances of finding what we set out to discover, I saw Spike's head rise up from the ground, ears poised and sifting her vision like a sentry on the prowl for her target, immensely alert.

"_Jade,_" she said. "_I'm picking up on a scent we're downwind to. Something that I'm not familiar with._"

"How close?" I asked.

"_Close,_" she warned. "_Get to cover._"

I reacted the second I received the order, pulling Wally by the shoulder lower towards the ground—suddenly, he was more compliant, now that we were in danger. Back perched to the side of a tree, I watched Spike weave her way through a patch of grass a few meters ahead of us. Any sound of the forest was drowned out by the pattering rain swishing against the canopy of leaves above us. So, I relied on my sight to get a proper vantage on whatever creature Spike picked up on.

It was hard to believe. I saw a Pokémon—but, instead of fleeing from our location, it was coming towards us.

The Pokémon was short for a human, but bipedal, legs obscured by a skin that wore over its legs like white fabric. Its green, domelike head housed two horns, one on is forehead, the other parallel to it. While I wasn't absolutely certain, it fit the description Wally divulged to me earlier, leading me to believe it was indeed a Ralts. I directed Wally's attention towards it; it took a few moments for him to notice it through the rainfall himself, but his reaction was telling.

My mind was wandering with questions. If the Ralts was downwind to us, how did it find our location? Was this blind luck? Even if it knew we were here, I was led to believe a Repel would keep it at bay—but it didn't seem deterred by the lingering scent wafting through the space from Wally. Nevertheless, I knew I had to stuff those questions to the side and help him in the moment.

"You have your rental Pokémon on you?" I asked in a whisper.

"Yes, yes," he said, struggling to find it in his jacket. His hands were shaking slightly once he had the Pokéball in his hands. "A Zigzagoon I borrowed from the Gym."

"Good," I bumped him on the shoulder. "This is your moment. I'm here as backup if you need me."

"Right, okay. Yeah," he said through elevated breaths.

"Just—" I deemed it wise to give last-minute advice. "Send your Pokémon out. Try to weaken the Ralts to the point of surrender, and toss that ball at it. If it doesn't work, I have more. Now that we have it in our sights, it can't get away."

"Yeah, alright, I can do this," he said. It sounded like he was convincing himself.

Rising back up to his feet, slipping halfway from the newly-forming mud, Wally left cover stealthily, standing perpendicular to the Ralts, out of view. Holding the Pokéball in his left hand, he slowly extended it outward before releasing the Zigzagoon out into the space. I peeked out from the tree, watching the boy prepare himself alongside the familiar rodent he released to fight alongside him.

And, I was amazed by the strange Pokémon yet again; the Ralts locked eyes with Wally. They stared each other down, each as fixated on the other. Wally was frozen, but I could tell it wasn't from fear. He wasn't acting, but neither was the Ralts, tilting its head with a curious posture that made it seem like it was trying to figure Wally out.

But, its demeanor changed almost entirely a second later. I swear that it looked right at me, even though I was well hidden. Somehow, it knew Wally wasn't alone, and I heard him cry out with a step forward:

"W-wait!"

It was too late to reason with the creature—the Ralts was holding out its arms and letting out an inhuman shriek. In that instant, time felt frozen, and I watched the clear rain start to glow an interesting pinkish hue, a cloud of energy surging through the forest.

Moments later, there was a bright light, followed by Wally soaring through the air above me, crashing into the mud behind me, blasted away by the Ralts' attack. I heard him emote in pain, still conscious after the attack by some miracle. His Zigzagoon stood by, unsure of how to act without its trainer to order it. With a cuss, I blew my cover to call out to my Pokémon.

"Spike!"

The minute I made a sound, the Ralts reacted with a second shriek, whipping its wrist out in front of it and imbuing the space with another surge of power. I broke from the tree, skidding out of the way as the attack struck the trunk. The tree, about the size of my waist in diameter, snapped like a twig from the attack.

I watched the little creature reel from the demonstration of power, clutching its head in its tiny hands, wavering for a moment. In that instance of hesitation, Spike dove out of the grass with a bark bursting from her mouth, doing her best to startle the Pokémon and keep its attention off of Wally. The Ralts lobbed a surge of psychic energy at her, only for it to glance off her body—no effect.

Before Spike could get close enough to pounce, I saw a puff of pinkish smoke, strobing lights fizzling from the flash. And, before I knew it, the space that the Ralts was once occupying was empty, the Pokémon having disappeared.

"_Jade, it teleported,_" Spike reported to me, having a better vantage up the hill. "_It's a young creature. It couldn't have been able to get far. If we give chase, there's a decent shot that it won't get away from us._"

I nodded at her analysis, deeming that it was probably correct. But, my focus was elsewhere in the present, running to Wally's aid. He was laid out in a puddle, back to the ground and eyes wide open. I knelt down to assess him.

"Wally?" I asked. "Are you okay? You took a hit head-on."

To my amazement, he was completely unharmed, lifting himself out of the mud, clothes ruined by the mixed earth and rain.

"It's in pain…" I heard him whisper under his breath.

"How can you tell?"

"I don't know. I just felt it…"

He seemed distracted, and my worry was starting to mount. I was brought back to the emotional moment I saw Professor Birch being attacked by the Zigzagoon. I had the same thought as I did back then, except this time, it was about Wally. This could be his one and only shot to become a Pokémon trainer.

"Wally, hey, come on," I tried to shake him out of his trance, to mild success. "We have to dig in with our heels now. It hasn't gotten away from us yet."

With minor convincing, I was able to lead Wally into following me up the hill; we deduced that the Ralts wouldn't teleport further down the hilly area, considering that was where we came from. This time, I helped him travel at my pace, arms locked as we made our way up the steep incline.

The traversal was becoming more difficult with every passing moment; out of nowhere it was starting to pour, the rainfall growing heavier. Patches of ground slid downhill, temporary rivers forming from the mud and debris being uprooted by the storm. Our trek upwards was slow, but our Pokémon were taking the lead. Spike, scent still traced on the Ralts, was leading the way; and, to my surprise, the Zigzagoon Wally brought along was keeping pace, as well. It acted differently from the wild ones I knew, acting more resolute ever since its trainer was knocked away by the Ralts.

I couldn't see well, and the rain was starting to chill me to the bone. Luckily, Spike's words were still able to reach me.

"_It's here,_" she said. "_At the cliffside in front of us._"

I couldn't see the Ralts from where I was, rain too thick to tell friend from foe at the moment. But, I could see the cliffside she was talking about, ridges of rock forming a steep wall too dangerous to climb in the slippery conditions the rain caused. If the Ralts fled in this direction, it was officially cornered by us. I knelt Wally back down so that he could catch his breath properly—his cough was beginning to act up again.

"I'll get it down here," I assured him, bending each of my knees and digging each step upwards into the mud, using everything I had within me to scale the steep incline in the rain towards my Pokémon. I nearly reached where Spike and the rental Zigzagoon were lurched in waiting, prepared to pounce the Ralts.

I heard the shriek again, making it easier to ascertain the Ralts' location through the rain—a blur of white now clear in my vision. But, my view was lit up by the pink glow once again, as the Pokémon blasted the earth beside Spike. While my Poochyena was unharmed, the attack was enough to unearth the ground beneath her, causing a miniature landslide. Spike dug her claws to the ground, slipping several dozen feet down the mountainside.

Next was a blast far closer to me. I heard a yelp the second I was blinded; it struck the Zigzagoon directly.

My senses narrowed in focus as my adrenaline kicked in. I saw the Zigzagoon, lobbed off its feet, falling backwards down the mountain. Its course was five feet to my right—an uninhibited fall leading to the jagged stones at the end of the hill we were climbing. Without thinking, I acted, diving out and catching the Zigzagoon, tackled to the round on one shoulder. Mud splashed all around us, and my body started to roll uncontrollably back down the mountain. My back hit the broad side of a rock, halting us both and sending a searing pain up my spine.

Beneath my folded arms was the Zigzagoon, unharmed by the fall, clutched as close to me as it would allow.

"I've got you," I assured with a whisper. Something about my actions baffled me—risking life and limb for the same creature that tried to eat me alive two days ago.

I was alerted to the unfolding scene at hand by another shriek from the Ralts at the top of the cliff. From the sounds emitting from it, I could more obviously tell that it was under a great deal of duress, likely from the immense psychic power it was emitting from its small, juvenile body. I wasn't sure how Wally figured that out well before me. But, now that I was gaining my bearings through the mud and rock, I noticed him, the last one standing on the hill, only a few feet out in front of me.

His knees bent, and he let out a hustled breath. And, in an act of motivation, I could hear him grunt out as he sunk his feet up the hill with each step.

"Dig deep, dig deep."

The sounds coming from the Ralts were becoming more constant, strung together like speech none of us could understand. Pink was still being reflected by the rain, only this time in fizzling flashes, like a light bulb about to burn out. They didn't deter Wally, clawing his way through the dirt trying to reach the Pokémon.

"You have to stop using your power!" he shouted at the Pokémon. "It's killing you because you don't know how to control it!"

The Ralts was still shrieking, undeterred.

"Please, stop!" He kept trying to reason. "I know you can understand me! You don't have to live on this mountain in fear anymore! I want you to be my Pokémon! I—" with a crack of his voice, I could recognize that Wally was uncensored, pouring his heart out, letting emotions spill that he bottled up the entire day. "I _need _you to be my Pokémon!"

To my total astonishment, the lights filling up the mountain dimmed, the area growing silent beyond the rain and Wally's shouts.

"I've never been good at anything!" He choked his way through the statement. "I want to prove myself—to Norman, to my parents, to everyone—I'm sick and tired of hiding! I want to see the world!"

I almost called out to him, warning that he reached the top of the cliff and was standing mere feet away from the Ralts. If it attacked, he would be sent off the mountain, likely killed from the fall. But, he stood there, across from the Pokémon that refused to attack him. I couldn't believe what I was watching.

"I just want someone to understand me…!" Wally called out desperately. "I know you're the same!"

Whether it was from the exhaustion of the journey, or the intense emotion washing over him, Wally fell to his knees, elbows to the rocky ground he was standing atop. Through his sobs, he let out a final plea.

"Please… help me."

It's important that I get this across—I'm not a superstitious person. Unless I read it in a book written by a respected scholar or scientist, I didn't believe a word I heard about Pokémon. The world is filled with misinformation. People told myths about Hoenn's creatures that seemed so untrue, and I never believed them before. So, when Wally told me that a Ralts could display empathy, and feel what others felt instinctively, I didn't believe him.

But, as Wally cried across the ground, and I watched the Ralts approach him slowly, silently, wrapping its arms around the back of his head in a hug, I believed him. By the end of the entire ordeal the rain was subsiding, and the only water that fell were tears from the both of them, sharing in their suffering, until there was nothing left for them to feel bad about, and Wally was back on his feet, Pokémon in hand.

* * *

"So… have you decided on a name for your Ralts yet?"

After the entire ordeal, the Ralts allowed itself to be captured by Wally willingly, in the same way my Poochyena did yesterday. With the battle behind us, travelling the way we came downhill seemed like an absolute breeze, the two of us riding the winds of success all the way back towards Route 102. Luckily, no one caught us; the trainers on the route were all deterred by the storm. We made our way back to Petalburg uncontested—but absolutely filthy. Both our bags were filled with mud, our bodies bruised and exhausted by the trip. Too weary to do anything else with the rest of our day, we sat outside the back of the Pokémon Center, reclined against the building, chatting like old buddies.

"I have," he said, eyes intent on the two Pokéballs he carried, one in each hand. "I think I'm going to call her Siren."

"That's great," I said, eyes to the clearing sky, which was dimming with nightfall on the way. "I can't imagine the face Norman will make when you show her to him tomorrow. Too bad I won't be around to see it."

"Oh? You're off already?" He asked.

"In the morning, yeah. I spent enough time in Petalburg. I think I'm gonna sink my teeth into one of the routes around here, and train my party up. Maybe head west."

"I'm glad you stuck around long enough to help me, Jade," he said, an earnest tone to his exhausted voice. "I really can't thank you enough."

"No need," I assured him. "I was just glad we were able to actually pull it off—"

To my utter shock, I felt an arm wrap around my back as Wally went in for a hug, my chin pressed to his right shoulder. It was assertive for someone of his disposition, although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised after watching him scale a mountain and face off against a creature worthy of myths. It was a muddy hug, but I didn't mind. When he pulled away, he seemed absolutely embarrassed, though.

"That was for Siren, too," he justified, voice as speedy and nervous as ever. "She wanted me to apologize for her. Sent you flying and everything."

"Oh," I smiled. "Well, you can tell her that I forgive her."

"Good. She's glad."

Staring down at the two Pokéballs he was carrying, there was a silent and pensive moment where Wally dwelled within himself. Then, with a resolute, and muddy, nod, I watched him stuff away Siren's Pokéball in his jacket.

He held the other out to me.

"I… think I want to give you this Zigzagoon," he said.

"Really?" I asked with genuine surprise. "Why?"

"It's not mine to begin with," he justified. "Just a Gym rental. I feel guilty that I wasn't able to bond with it. And I would feel better if someone kind took care of it."

Denying the gesture seemed harsh. And, I was touched by the offer—especially since it meant I could steal one of Norman's Pokémon from right under his nose. I reached for the Pokéball, paying no mind to my hand touching the back of his. With a nod and a shake, I did my best to commit his features to memory, hoping to see him again.

"Give 'em hell out there, Wally," I said. "Thanks for being the first thing I liked about Petalburg. Take Hoenn by storm."

"We'll be seeing each other out there," he assured, standing up, pockets slushing with wet dirt filled within them. "For now, I should head to the Gym before it closes. Siren and I have a lot of work to do."

I watched him walk off with a faint sigh, my shoulders loosening as my body gave into exhaustion, slumped against the Center and painted in debris head-to-toe from the storm. It was the first time all day I was alone with my Pokémon. With a new addition to the party, I held the ball out to stare into it, fixated.

"_You're not going to take me back to the Gym, are you?_"

The voice was young, and a little scrappy. It made me smile, because it was exactly what I pictured a Zigzagoon would sound like.

"Of course not," I assured him. "To hell with that place."

"_Well, good riddance,_" the Zigzagoon said. "_I'm sick of being Norman's rental. Being lent out to kids, never improving._"

"_Is that a new intern I hear?_" Willow bellowed from the Pokéballs at my hip. "_Oh, I recognize you. You're the rat that got blown away by that Ralts._"

"_You really need to work on your introductions,_" Geisha warned him.

"_Be more civil,_" Spike chimed in. "_I fought tooth and nail alongside this Zigzagoon. Neither of you even saw the light of day._"

Hearing my Pokémon bicker, it felt like I was back into the swing of things. Having made my first real friend I ever had, I felt satisfied with my time in Petalburg, ready to move westward—after a shower, maybe.

"Welcome to the team, Goonie."

"_Is—is that my name now…?_" he questioned.

"_Yeah, she's not the best at this,_" Willow told him.


	5. Part Five: The Grunt

**Chapter Five: The Grunt**

* * *

My name is Jade, and I've been a Pokémon trainer for two weeks now. Through trials and tribulations, I left my home in Littleroot, traversing Hoenn's routes and passing through Oldale and Petalburg. After Norman lit a fire under me, and I made my first friend, I took to the wilderness on Route 104 to begin training my Pokémon for days straight.

The decision was driven primarily by how much I enjoyed the nature of Route 104; it was diverse compared to my earlier travels. It was the first route with a road paved halfway through it; because of how cultivated it was, the spot was popular among trainers, and challenges were frequent. But, this was not a sacrifice for the route's majesty, housing some of the most gorgeous scenery I'd ever seen. The trees rooted on the boundaries of the road were diverse and unique, planted by humans and upkept by the Pokémon population. Its berries were a delicacy across Hoenn—or so I was told. In my time training on Route 104, I saw all kinds of Pokémon scale the trees and bring the berries down, continuing the cycle by eating the fruit for more trees to grow in the future. Aside from a steep cliff on the northeast end, the route was perfect for finding Pokémon for mine to challenge.

As I grew more comfortable commanding my partners in battle, I was beginning to develop an understanding for it. There was a rhythm to combat between Pokémon; it wasn't like when people fought to the death. I grew accustomed to comparing it to a dance—one moves, and the other responds with moves of their own. In that sense, there was a sort of beauty to allowing my Pokémon to face off against nature. But, that's not to say I was seduced by the idea. I still hated having to risk my party to travel. I was just trying to trick myself into enjoying it more, but it wasn't working.

In the week and a half I spent on the route, I saw my Pokémon develop in different ways. Willow was quick to pick a fight with whatever we came across; I wouldn't call it a bloodlust, but he definitely had a knack for battling. He didn't need my help, and refused most commands I gave him; in that way, he taught me to trust his judgement. He was far from brutish, though. In fact, Willow was surprisingly intelligent, and had keen instincts. Spike was incredibly loyal, and offered valuable insight whenever I needed it. She had experience beyond her years, and was much more open to sharing it. Because she was familiar with being trained by humans, I learned how to command my Pokémon in battle thanks to her cooperation. I found her attitude the most reliable. Goonie was the most energetic of the posse, and the one with the most to prove. He caught on to my habits quickly, and I slowly taught him patience both in and out of battle. But, I value that he has such a vast determination—if I ever unchained him, he could prove a problem for any unprepared opponent.

And then, there was Geisha.

Her progress was slow. Battles against wild Pokémon were a time sink with Geisha at the helm of the operation. It wasn't a clash with simple rules—her poison was too weak to kill the wild creatures, which worked in our favor. But, that also meant it took several minutes to have any effect. This meant switching out Geisha was a must, since she wasn't hardy enough to defend of her own volition. This also led to a stunted growth.

Semantics aside, it took Geisha much longer to develop, and I spent the most amount of time trying to train her. I tried to handle it subtly, to avoid insulting her inadvertently. But, it was a hard topic to avoid acknowledging; she knew she was having a hard time. She didn't seem worn down by it, though. Her confidence kept up, because she had something to look forward to. Every time it appeared that she was falling behind, she assured me—the best was yet to come. She was going to evolve.

I took this week to try to understand that better, too. The fixation on evolution. It wasn't just Geisha, I noticed that all my Pokémon looked forward to evolving with reverence. They explained it to me as best they could—every Pokémon has a natural desire to evolve. Similar to how humans possess a natural desire to eat and reproduce, Pokémon tend towards battle naturally (which is how Pokémon battles became popularized in the first place, because they happened in nature all the time).

I understood it the most with Willow, since his goal was to be strong to begin with. But, with Geisha, it wasn't just about a desire to become stronger. She idealized what she would look like as a Beautifly, what she would sound like, what others would think of her. It made me feel like my ambition to become a trainer was shallow in comparison.

But then, it finally happened on the eighth day I was training.

I was using Geisha against a wild Lotad—a blueish froglike beast hooded in a lily pad. After the usual sluggish process, she was able to achieve victory, forcing the creature to flee from us back into the tall grass. Once it was out of sight, I turned to my Wurmple, to discover a fierce, blinding light.

It was different from the light a Pokéball released; the glow was coming from underneath her skin, until the flash overwhelmed my sight of her and there was nothing but a white blanket enveloping my vision. My sight retreated from my Pokémon, unable to stare directly at her, brilliantly beaming.

"_It's happening!_" I heard her boast excitedly. "_It's finally happening!_"

With the flash flickering, I could get a better look; her visage was still outlined by the white hue. It was changing shape, expanding and wrapping in on itself. Although I didn't understand the phenomenon, it was clear that Geisha was changing. And, all at once, the light dissipated, scattering like small particles fluttering in the wind.

Geisha looked similar to the way she described she would, so I believed the evolution to be a success. Her body was wrapped endlessly in a tight-knit silk, until it appeared like she was nothing beyond a ball of mauve gauze the size of a watermelon. Several strands were stuck out on all sides, supporting her off the ground. I could tell which side was the front, red eyes peeking out through the purplish mass.

"_Ta-dah!_" she presented excitedly, body unmoving. "_A Silcoon, before your very eyes!_"

With a smile, I knelt over to pick her up, holding her in both hands.

"_How do I look?_" She asked.

"You look cute," I assured her.

"_This is just one step on the path to the end goal, Jade,_" she said, giddiness still clear in her voice despite the absence of mannerisms. "_I was able to evolve once in no time flat—my transformation into a Beautifly is just around the corner!_"

I was genuinely happy for Geisha, eager to echo her enthusiasm. But, that glee was cut abruptly short by the sight I saw peeking from the corner of my eye. Standing to the side, outside of his Pokéball, was Willow, arms folded in front of him.

As I turned to face him, his expression seemed grim. It wiped the smile off my face, and my head tilted in a subtle worry.

"What is it?" I asked, trying not to alert Geisha.

"_Kid,_" Willow began. "_Have you ever seen a Silcoon before?_"

"In books," I shook my head, keeping my motions calm. Although, they were overly slow, and I could tell that they were alerting the Pokémon in my arms. "Why are you asking, Willow? Is something the matter?"

There was a hesitancy to his demeanor—a restraint that I hadn't seen in the Treecko in all the time we spent training. It had me unbelievably worried, because someone as boorish as him was treading so delicately.

"_I don't know how to break it to you, bug,_" he said. "_But, you're not a Silcoon._"

"_…What?_"

A tinge of heartbreak could be heard in Geisha's voice.

"_You're not a Silcoon,_" Willow repeated. "_You're a Cascoon._"

"_No…_" She emoted in denial, as I stared down at her unsure of how to act. "_No! That's not possible! I was supposed to become a Silcoon!_"

"Why isn't she a Silcoon?" I demanded answers from Willow, glaring down at him for breaking the news. "Did something happen to? Is something wrong?!"

"_Nothing's wrong. Calm down,_" Willow insisted, still apprehensive. "_Wurmple aren't like most Pokémon. When they evolve, they flip a coin. Half of them turn into Silcoon—the other half turn into Cascoon. And from there, they evolve into separate creatures._"

"You mean… it's random?" I tried to rationalize the process. "Well, how does Geisha become a Beautifly as a Cascoon?"

Willow's eyes narrowed at the question. There was a complex thought behind his gaze—like he was judging me harshly for asking the question, and he was regretting that he had to share the answer to begin with.

"_She can't,_" he said eventually, bluntly. "_Once a Wurmple becomes a Cascoon, it's set to evolve into a Dustox. You can't go back._"

I understood what Willow said, but I was slow to process it. If it was truly a coin flip, a random chance for Geisha to evolve into either option, why was she so certain that she would transform into a Silcoon? The differences between the two species must have been minute, because the Cascoon in my hand looked like the Silcoon I read about. But, Willow handled the issue with such gravity that I was sure it had dire implications for Geisha.

She was so ready to become a Beautifly. She glorified their beauty, and her patience was rewarded with the wrong path.

"_This can't be happening…!_" Geisha cried out desperately. I could feel the faintest kick from within the cocoon in my hands. "_I've had dreams since I was a larva of becoming a Beautifly… I thought about it day in, and day out. I was BORN to become one! Not this—this, disgusting creature! I hate this! I don't want this!_"

Something was struggling from the inside of the silk, bits of it stretching as the creature within thrashed in a bout of frustration and defeat.

"_GET ME OUT OF HERE!_" I heard Geisha shriek. "_THIS ISN'T A COCOON! IT'S A PRISON!_"

"_Knock it off!_" Willow shouted at her. "_You're not a Dustox yet—if you break out of that cocoon too early, you'll die!_"

"Geisha, please!" I added. "Calm down!"

"_No—_" Although I couldn't tell from the outside of the silk, I could hear Geisha crying from the voice alone. "_Nobody look at me! I'm hideous!_"

The weight I was carrying in my hands suddenly vanished, the burden lifting from me entirely as Geisha forced herself back into her Pokéball and out of sight. After a brief pause of searching for her, I realized what happened, struck with an indescribable guilt.

"Geisha?" I called, feeling alone. "Are you in there?"

No response.

"You're not hideous," I tried to tell her. "No one thinks that, Geisha. I'm actually excited to see what you evolve into—you don't have to hide."

Nothing back.

"Okay, well—" I felt my voice growing shaky with uncertainty. "You don't have to talk right now. We'll give you some space. Just know… I'm here for you if you need someone to lend an ear, alright?"

Still silence.

Worked up, I turned to Willow with a scowl.

"You could have waited to break the news," I hissed. "And with some tact."

"_I was stopping her from living a lie,_" he said, not meeting my gaze in defiance. "_Imagine how tragic it would have been if she found out when she evolved again. You would never have known if it weren't for me._"

Although I hated to admit it, he was right. Things would have been thousands of times worse if, when Geisha evolved again, she evolved into something completely different—and I acted negatively. Still, I was stumped by the circumstances. I felt responsible for my Pokémon's morale, but I couldn't think of a way to make her feel better. She lost a coin flip she had no control over. Maybe, if she evolved a second earlier, or a second later, she would have evolved into a Silcoon. That must be crushing.

"I'll think of something," I said aloud. Because I wanted to believe that I would.

"_You better,_" Willow said, returning to his Pokéball as well. "_I won't listen to a leader that isn't sure how to lead. I'd rather take my chances on a route._"

And so, I escaped the conversation with my Pokémon, huffing in exasperation. I spent the last week and a half training my team up, so we would be ready for any challenge that lied ahead. I never expected this kind of roadblock, and so early.

Again, Willow was right. It was my responsibility to upkeep my Pokémon, both physically and emotionally. Meaning, to keep Geisha's head in the game, I would have to brainstorm for a way to convince her that her evolution path was more than fine, that it was an opportunity for us to grow even stronger. A tall order. Not wanting to remain stuck in one place while I thought, I traveled the route. The weather was as mild as ever, and I wanted to take advantage of it. And, I thought of the perfect place to mull over my thoughts on Route 104.

There was a beach to the southwest, past a dirt trail that led down to it. It was a wide plain of sand that I enjoyed walking across the morning before a long day of training. When I lived in Petalburg, I was almost too young to remember, but there were two ponds that people frequented. Although I never learned to swim, I always enjoyed the scenery; but the ocean was in a league of its own. The majesty, and sheer size, of the blue horizon of water was mesmerizing to me. It made me feel small, but not in the same way people did. I felt insignificant in the most beautiful way, staring out at the endless expanse. The way my footprints followed me through the sand was oddly satisfying, too. Standing there, at the edge of the water foaming up onto shore, I thought about my Pokémon, the sound of waves lulling me into a false sense of security.

Because, while I was distracted by the scenery, someone walked up to the shore and stood next to me, directly.

He was older than me—probably not by much. His shoulders were blocky and broad, as his diaphragm expanded to take in the sea breeze. The top of his head was covered with a bandana, similar to my fashion, only it had a distinctly unfamiliar logo on the front of the black fabric. I only caught a glimpse of his face, tanned and housing stubble only underneath his lip, before I averted my gaze to avoid staring; even though he was clearly aware I was nearby, his eyes were fixated on the water ahead of him.

"The sea," he said with a tone of reverence. "There isn't a more beautiful sight in the whole wide world."

"Yeah man," I agreed, unsure if he was trying to spark a conversation. "I gotta say, it's up there for me too."

"Tell me," he continued. "Which of Hoenn's great oceans is your favorite?"

"Oh, well," I stammered, trying to think of a way to mask my ignorance, before I decided that honesty was probably best. "I don't really have a favorite. To tell you the truth, this is the first one I've ever been to."

His head swerved focus, staring at me with a wide-eyed expression—whether it was disbelief or amazement, I wasn't sure. But, I regretted responding to his comments immediately, as soon as I saw the look in his eyes. It was hard to explain why it was disturbing, but I got a bad impression almost immediately.

"This is your first time seeing the _sea_?" He asked, floored by the revelation.

"Yeah…" I answered apprehensively, and his whole body swiveled to clasp his hands in front of me excitedly.

"This is incredible… I'm so happy to have shared this experience with you! It's amazing how the sea brought us together like this. I'm sure it has big plans for you."

And there it was. The unsettling feeling I received from this person received a name—fanaticism. Neither of my parents were particularly religious; between the two, my mother was the only one who even owned the Book of Arceus. I wasn't sure what I believed, especially since I didn't know what other beliefs were out there in the world. But, I was pretty sure I didn't worship the _sea_. Or that the sea had any sort of sentience.

"This is all new to you, this is…" the man prattled on, intruding further into my comfort zone. "The sea called me here to tell you about her majesty—that has to be it. There's so much for you to learn about her!"

I couldn't get a word in. In fact, I was unsure of how to decline his invitation respectfully, without triggering whatever bomb of rhetoric he believed in.

"Poor girl, having grown up with nothing but land around her, all her life," he continued, speeding up as he spoke. "There's nothing more essential to life than the sea, you know. Humans could survive on nothing other than what the sea provides—living on land is nothing beyond a tether for ignorant minds."

"Oh, wow, that's uh—"

"But that's why the sea called me here, to _save _you!" he boasted excitedly, as his figure became more imposing to me. "To teach you its ways and make you a sister of the sea! It's so good to meet you! My name is—well, it doesn't matter, since we're bound by the ocean to begin with. Tell you what, sister, you should come to the Woods later tonight. The rest of our family will be performing a ritual that—"

"HEY!"

The shout didn't come from me (even though I was screaming internally). The sound was gruff and guttural, coming from an aged voice off to the north. Desperate for anything to interrupt my conversation with the strange man, I whipped my head around to see where the noise came from.

Not a hundred feet from where I was standing on the beach, there was a wooden cabin perched atop the small plateau before the route broke into sand. I had assumed, all this time, that it was abandoned, both because of its ramshackle nature and the absence of people coming and going the week-plus I spent training. But, to my surprise, there was someone standing in the doorway.

A rugged, old gentleman in a baggy, burlap overcoat was leaned against the entryway to the cabin, leather boots crossed with his legs. Even from so far away, he was visibly tall; taking up over two-thirds of the eight-foot doorway, silver beard taking up the entire bottom half of his face. I could see a faint trail of smoke, wafting upwards from a long wooden pipe he held in his right hand—which he used to point at us angrily.

"Get the hell away from that girl!" The old man barked. "How many times do I have to warn you to stay off my property, _grunt_?!"

I heard an angry click of a tongue behind me, as my sea-crazed company started to slink out of my personal space bit by bit. With a desperate whisper, he told me:

"I won't be far. Praise the sea, sister."

"You better get going!" The man across the way continued to shout threateningly. "The next time I see you, you'll have more than Peeko to deal with! I'll storm into Petalburg and sic Norman on you and your crazy friends' asses!"

With a scurry, they disappeared off the beach and out of sight entirely. Although I was grateful to be free of the fanatic, I was also uncomfortable, unsure if the elderly gentleman wanted me to leave also. Truthfully, I didn't have any reason to believe that _he _was any less dangerous to me. The old man visibly untensed his posture once the other one was out of sight; but he was still clearly a rugged person, keeping a suspicious eye on me as I stood awkwardly across the beach, unsure if it was appropriate to thank him.

"You there!" He called to me, my shoulders spiking in surprise. "What's your name?"

I cupped my mouth with my hands and called back.

"Jade, sir."

I heard a weary hum of recognition escape from him. with his hand risen, he returned the pipe to his mouth, a puff of smoke swirling in the doorway.

"You keep away from those kids, you hear me?" He said. It probably wasn't meant to be a warning, but it definitely sounded like one. "They're in those woods, parading around these towns causin' nothin' but trouble."

I nodded in recognition, eager to appease him and be left alone. And, to his credit, when I agreed to staying away from people like the sea-worshipper, the old man slinked back into the cabin, wooden door creaked behind him. Even though I was finally alone on the beach again, I didn't have much desire left to be there. I think all signs were saying that we officially overstayed our welcome on Route 104.

Instead of letting a series of more rash decisions reflect on my team, I deemed it wise to consult them on our next move.

"Where should we go next?" I asked my Pokémon.

"_Where do you think we should go?_" Willow replied immediately. Fair question.

"I don't think there's anything left for us on Route 104," I said. "If we backtrack, we'll have to go back through Petalburg, and I don't want that. So I think we should take our chances heading north, seeing what's up there for us."

"_Oh, you mean Petalburg Woods?_" I heard Goonie jump in, his interjection sudden. "_I used to go there all the time._"

"Really?"

"_Yeah. Plenty of kids I was a rental to wanted to go on an adventure there. Tons of bug-type Pokémon out there. For a route, it's pretty tame._"

"_Still,_" Spike chimed in. "_We should exercise caution._"

"I agree," I continued the conversation with my Pokémon, walking back up the trail and passing by the patches of grass on each side of the road. "That guy said his cult was meeting there later today. We should definitely avoid that."

"_I didn't like him, Jade,_" Spike said.

"Trust me, I didn't either."

"_It was more than just an impression,_" she asserted further. "_It's something instinctual. In a habitat, it's easy for Pokémon to tell what Pokémon's behavior is normal. Even if they're trying to eat us, we understand that all Pokémon gotta eat. The real dangerous creatures are the ones that do irrational things you can't expect._"

"What are you getting at, Spike?"

"_That human seemed deviant. He doesn't conform to his habitat, and that could make him really dangerous. We shouldn't just avoid him—we need to stay far, far away._"

There was a certain shiver that ran across my skin, an impression that I kept subdued as I didn't react to Spike's warning. Although we were improving, training on this route, it was clear to me that it was my Pokémon getting stronger, not me. The creatures at my hip, which already had the power to kill me in an instant, were improving. And, those same creatures were wary of the _human _I just talked to. Not just wary—there was something they were instinctually disturbed by about him.

Needless to say, I wasn't in a hurry to start worshipping the sea anytime soon.

Though I was apprehensive by the time we reached it, the entrance to Petalburg Woods was distinct. Route 104 ended with a clear boundary of trees, walling any view from beyond were lined up across my vision. They were tightly-packed, almost unnaturally so, their roots weaving between each other in the crowded space. Weaving through them was troublesome, even for someone with a slender frame such as myself. Great. The worry over the sea cultists wasn't enough—we had to throw claustrophobia into the mix.

"You said you've been here before, Goonie?" I asked him.

"_Yeah. Why?_"

"You're travelling with me. Outside your ball," I followed through with the order, releasing the Zigzagoon with a flash from my hip. The presence of a friendly bodyguard was enough to ease my nerves to the point of further travel.

It was dark; or, maybe I was just used to the sunny seaside Route 104. A canopy wrapped over my upward field of view like a leafy dome, adding to the trapped feeling that was creeping up my chest. The trees in the forest, still packaged too closely together, were taller and housed darker bark on their broad sides. The grass was squeezed together in hall-like passageways, making the traversal through the woods mazelike. Here, the ground was terraced, just like it was off-route on my trip with Wally, meaning it would be a difficult climb to go anywhere the Woods didn't want you to be.

"_Okay,_" Goonie's voice was instructional; it was probably clear that I was wary of our trip through the woods. "_There's a main path. It leads straight north eventually—the problem with it, there are tons of trainers on it. We could go off the beaten path, but then we run the risk of running into a whole bunch of wild Pokémon. Your call._"

I considered each option—the main path, or the tall grass. I was familiar with battling trainers and wild Pokémon alike, thanks to the last few weeks. And, between the two, I began to prefer battling trainers, solely because they usually didn't entail life or death. A wild creature was fighting because they believed their life was on the line—Geisha tried to poison me within seconds of meeting me, and Wally's Ralts was putting itself on the brink of death with its psychic powers to ward us away from its home. A trained Pokémon is aware that they can be sent back to their Pokéball if things get dicey.

"I don't see a reason to avoid the main path," I answered finally. "Seems safer overall. Besides, cult things don't happen on a commonly-traveled road, right?"

"_You wouldn't think so,_" Goonie answered with an implied shrug, zig-zagging through the brush in front of me as point. "_I'll get us to the dirt road up ahead, in that case._"

Even though my Pokémon was guiding me through the Woods, uncertainty was starting to overtake me. Something felt wrong; I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly. The dirt road, the path that trainers were expected to travel, was overgrown. Patches of weeds were forming through cracks in the earth, which grew dusty with how dead the soil became without sunlight.

Beyond that, it was dark, even in the middle of the day. When Wally and I were off-route, it was cloudy, but the trees allowed plenty of daytime light to peek through the blanket of branches overtop us. In comparison, Petalburg Woods felt suffocating. When we decided to travel through the forest, I expected there to be an ambience, a noise of life beyond what we could see. But, it was dead silent. In all the routes and habitats we'd traveled in my short time as a trainer, this felt the most vacant and barren. We traveled for a little under an hour further down the trail. Fearful of the empty atmosphere, I tried to distract myself from I with the sound of my own voice.

"How many times have you traveled with a trainer here, Goonie?" I asked.

"_Oh, too many times,_" he answered, distracted on his trek.

"When was the last time?" I followed up.

"_It's—well, it's been a while…_" with a sudden haste, I watched my Zigzagoon halt upon the trail, my heart sinking. "_Jade, something's up here._"

"What? What is it?" I questioned urgently.

"_We haven't run into a single trainer,_" he said, eyes panning across the horizon. "_This place is always teeming with bug catchers. Not to mention, we haven't run into any bugs either. Even on the main path, they should be everywhere._"

Fully suspicious of my surroundings, I knelt over to pull the bag off my hip, unzipping it with an alert eye at the trees surrounding us. While my Pokémon was warning me, I was reaching in for the necessary supplies to defend myself.

"_Where are all the…_" Goonie's thought was halted. "_Jade, look out!_"

I could barely tell what I was supposed to look out for. It was a blur in my vision, slicing through the air at such a speed that I couldn't tell what Pokémon it was. With spread wings, it curved through the trunks of the trees from the north, on a crash course with me. I reared my arms back in reaction, feeling a set of claws scrape across my arm. I winced, teeth grit as I crashed backwards onto the trail atop my bag.

My eyes darted across the forest horizon, looking for the attacker. I caught on to the dark blue blur, soaring in a wide sweep around us, travelling in a spiral that closed in on my location. The warmth of blood was pooling across my forearm.

"_Jade!_" Goonie shouted, jumping into the fray to intercept the Pokémon's attack.

To avoid entering my Zigzagoon's attack range, the creature whipped its wings forward to halt its momentum, backing up its assault. I finally got a good look at it; the underbelly of feathers were a pure white, accented by the red and blue plume over its face. With wide eyes, it glared directly at me before zipping back into the tree line.

"A Tailow," I remarked between hollow breaths.

"_It's coming back around!_" My Pokémon warned me.

With nothing but disrupted branches and a tricky flight path to follow, I was prepared for the Tailow to strike the second time. Before it could close the distance, I reached into my bag for the green canister I kept in a compartment pocket, holding it sideways in the space in front of me, unleashing the green fog of spray around me with an arc of my arm. As I unloaded the Repel, the opposing Pokémon reared its head in disgust, wings flapping frantically, the Tailow acting desperately as its fight turned to flight, escaping into Petalburg Woods and out of sight.

Arms slumped to each of my side, I nearly dropped the empty can to the side of the trail, lifting myself off the ground. Goonie approached me with a scurry as I searched my bag for whatever bandages I picked up from the Mart in Petalburg.

"_Are you alright?_" he questioned, trying to assess my wound.

"I'm fine," I assured, wrapping up my forearm. "It only grazed me since I slipped."

"_I'm sorry—it got right past me,_" Goonie said, still distracted by our surroundings. "_I didn't expect it to go right for you. Pokémon here never attack the trainers on the trail without a reason. That Tailow must despise humans._"

"It's alright. We could both be more careful," I assured my Pokémon, attaching a few Repels from my bag to my hip for ease of access. "Let's just keep going forward… I'll feel better when we're out of this place for good."

Traversing through the Woods a little more world-weary than before, we treaded carefully. Meaning it was slow; we covered half the distance in the second hour, trying to keep our eyes peeled for the Tailow to make a move against us again. We'd fought plenty of wild Pokémon in the past week, but they were almost always on the defensive, protecting their home from us outsiders. But, that Tailow was different. It aimed for me, and not the Zigzagoon invading their home. I thought about what Spike warned me about earlier—deviant creatures that act beyond reason. Even after spending so long preparing for this journey, I felt more out of my depth with each passing step.

The forest felt dead, the further we drove into it—the scenery was far from the tourist trap that Goonie described to me. Aside from the single assailing Tailow from before, there was no life. No trainers, no Pokémon. Even the trees grew more barren, starved of sunlight and branches creeping at odd angles across the canopy above. The scenery's silence was maddening, and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, each breath becoming intentional. On all accounts, I was frightened.

And that was before we came across the husks.

"What the hell…?" I muttered in shock as we rounded the corner.

There were thick balls of silk, pumpkin-like in size, stuck to the trees surrounding us—dozens of cocoons in the vast expanse, several attached to each trunk. While some of them were as white as eggs, the others housed a lavender tint; and, for the first time, I could compare the difference between Silcoon and Cascoon. At first, I was in awe with the sheer number of them hibernating in the woods.

But, I was soon to discover that they weren't hibernating.

Their eyes, or where their eyes should have been peeking through, were sunken and empty, no light reaching the interior of the husks. Each of them looked like empty mask, like skin shed off of a creature, abandoned. But, it was too unnatural to be an evolution. There were holes in the sides of all of them. The more I walked through the forest, I started to see more and more of them, flung off the trees, rolled off to the side. A distinctly nonhuman blood was left in dotted trails across the forest floor, all coming from what were once the Cascoon and Silcoon of the Woods.

They were all kicked open by force. We were walking through a graveyard.

"What is all of this…?" I uttered out through ragged breath. Leaning down to assess the corpses, I saw flashes of Geisha in the cocoons. This could have been her.

"_This forest is dangerous,_" Goonie said, as he sprung to action, building a distance between us by strafing further into the woodland. "_Something terrible is happening here—I've got to get a scope of the perimeter._"

"I just don't understand," turning and turning, looking at the carnage, I couldn't process it. Bodies and bodies. "Who would do such a thing…"

"_Jade._"

The jump in Goonie's rattled voice shook me to my core, anxiety fueling me. I could tell immediately that something was wrong.

"_Stay right there,_" he said.

I heard him clearly, and processed his words soundly. But, I couldn't sit still. If something was wrong, I had to act; even though I knew nothing about the danger Goonie saw, I knew that death was all around me. My first thought was, maybe Goonie was being attacked by the creature that did this. Maybe I could help. So, before my brain could tell me to do anything more rational, I ran towards where Goonie was.

"_Jade, don't!_" he bellowed. "_Stay away!_"

I rounded the three separating us, eyes scanning the horizon for my Pokémon. But, when I found him, I found myself fixated on something else.

"_Don't look!_" Goonie pleaded. "_Go back!_"

It was already too late.

A boy was laying at the base of a tree, only a dozen feet away from where I stood, petrified by what I saw. His freckled cheeks and black crew cut were the backdrop for his eyes, emptied of life, shoulder slumped onto the forest floor. _This _blood was distinctly human, staining his bag and net cast to the side where his body laid.

I don't think I breathed, standing there and staring at the dead body. Something must have snapped; it was the first person I'd ever seen dead, let alone _killed_. I took two steps towards it, before faltering in disgust of the sight, eyes stained with sudden tears. With a thud, my knees fell to the forest in a panic. My Zigzagoon stood beside the corpse, disillusioned by the sight as well. There were bite marks up this person's arm, a wound most apparent on his neckline. I grieved this stranger, mind racing with things I could do to help him. I had healing items, Potions meant for Pokémon, but it was the best I could deal with. Something to stop the bleeding, anything—I thought I had to help. There was nothing to help. They were gone, and they had been for a while.

Just before I could snap myself back to the present, I heard a click behind me. I could have died from fear with the silence suddenly being broken. There was a voice.

"Don't move a muscle."

I remained there, frozen as a statue. I could see Goonie, still by the dead body, agitated by someone's arrival, legs poised to pounce. But, either through his own judgement, or by reading the expression on my face, he knew not to try anything.

Through the scrunch of dead leaves beneath their feet, I could hear the person behind me move, their voice clueing me in that it was a woman. With metered steps, they were slowly walking into my periphery. She was taller, and older, than me, wearing a blue-striped tube top and torn gray shorts. Her eyes were a deep red, hair jet black and scattered on her head like a messy mop. Atop her head with a black rag with the same logo as the man I met by the sea earlier today.

I glanced at her hand, held out towards me. She was holding a Pokéball out, clutching it with an intense grip. It felt like being held at gunpoint. I watched her scan and assess me, which only made me more afraid, practically shivering. She noticed the Zigzagoon, trained to keep still, assessing it was my Pokémon. Eventually, with a cold face, she looked to me and remarked:

"You're lost."

I had so many questions that I wanted to spew—was she the one who killed this person? Was she the one that killed all those Silcoon and Cascoon? Who _was _she? What was this cult? Instead, I choked on my breath, about to cry from desperation.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said, as she kept sweeping around me with her slow, careful pace, feet still crunching. "This is a bad place to be."

The closer she stepped into view, the better I could see the other Pokéballs attached to her hip—six in total, including the one in her hand she wagered against me. I kept my hands placed clearly across the ground, away from my bag and nearby supplies. All I could think was that I would end up like that corpse.

She leaned down to face my kneel. I nearly recoiled onto my back in shock. An err of intimidation and intensity was painted across her face.

"Where's home?" she asked. "North or south?"

"_Jade,_" I heard Spike in my head. "_Don't speak to her. She's dangerous._"

"_Let me out,_" Willow demanded. "_I'll kill her if she tries anything. Give me the word and I'll do it. I'll kill her._"

I couldn't humor my party now; if I reacted to their words, she would know that I was talking to my Pokémon. Instead, my eyes glazed over and I answered with a lie.

"North…"

"Rustboro City?"

"Y-yes."

"Good…" The woman sighed through her teeth, still holding the Pokéball up towards me. With a suddenness to her movement, she grasped my shoulder, leaning in to whisper the rest. "Listen to me. If you get caught by someone else tonight, they're going to kill you. You can run. You can hide. You can tell whoever that Team Aqua is here. But whatever you do—don't get caught."

I heard everything she said. But, I was too scared to process it in the moment.

"Okay?" she asked.

"O-okay," I answered back reactively, stammering.

She released me as soon as she had grabbed me, palm open and free from my shoulder, the other placing the Pokéball back onto her belt tightly. She stepped backwards, once, twice—and on the third time, she uttered:

"Off you go."

I bolted the second she let me, running faster than I ever ran before, downhill, northward, legs extended to catch my fall down the overgrown, rooted floor, Goonie in tow. The wind blasting my face brought the tears, sobbing until I staggered, ankle twisted from a forlorn branch bent across the trail. Beyond what I thought possible, I was grateful for Norman's Running Shoes, for teaching me how to run so quickly. After over a week of training, I felt weaker than ever, escaping the death that all around us.

* * *

Through huffs, I kept running through the words, frantically, for the third hour I spent in the Petalburg Woods. The trail grew more treacherous the further I went, but my instincts told me that slowing down meant death, and I kept my speedy retreat going. I knew, the second I stopped and thought, I'd feel pathetic. And, while I was hardly in the state for conversation, I heard my Pokémon speaking to me, unable to respond.

"_Why the hell did you run?_" Willow questioned. "_You let her get the best of you. We trained for this. We could have handled her._"

"_Show some respect, will you?_" Spike retorted, offended by his remarks. "_Did you consider that maybe Jade didn't want blood on her hands? Don't you think she's had to deal with enough death for one day?_"

"_I'm sick of other getting the last laugh,_" the Treecko shot back. "_First Norman, and now this! We keep getting pushed around!_"

"_You need to calm down,_" Goonie warned him. "_This entire forest is in shambles. She called their group Team Aqua—whatever is happening, it's bigger than us. We're lucky to have gotten away from that._"

"_It's only bigger than us because we LET it be bigger,_" Willow answered back, voice elevated. "_You expect me to sit by while these bastards destroy a whole habitat?!_"

The further I ran I started to get lost in their argument. For as much as I hyped myself up as the leader of these Pokémon, I definitely didn't feel like it. Acting like an embarrassment in Petalburg, fleeing like a coward in the Woods. The further I got from Littleroot, the more people made me feel out of my depth.

I kept beating myself up—and I started to blame the Woods for it. I felt so terrible because we were still in these damn Woods, this horrible place where things die. It started to feel endless, like I would be trapped in it forever.

"Who's there?!"

The voice snapped me out of my sprint; I was being noisy, and someone heard me. I cupped my mouth to avoid screaming, screeching to a halt and scuttling towards a tree trunk to the side. Hunched over, I tried to hide as quickly and quietly as I could.

"You heard that too, right?" I heard the same voice say, the sound of boots scrunching across the ground a few dozen feet ahead of me. From the noise, it seemed like there was more than one person. "Someone's out there."

"Couldn't be," Another voice said—this one, feminine, but completely different from the person I just ran into. "We scared off everyone who used to visit here. This is our kingdom now."

"_Jade,_" Goonie called out to me, hidden in the brush a few feet off from where I was hunched over. "_I can see them—three in total. They look just like that woman that approached us… I'm guessing Team Aqua. Their backs are turned to us._"

Following my Pokémon's advice, I leaned further down to peek my way around the trunk, trying to gain a vantage of the others. To my surprise, I saw the same person I had the uncomfortable conversation with by the sea, standing with two other people. They were dressed almost identically—two men and one woman, none of them the stranger that just approached me by the dead body.

"It could have been her," the one I recognized said, making my heart sink. "The sister I invited to tonight's ritual culling."

"You _idiot!_"

The other man pushed him against a tree in a frenzy, lifting him up by his shirt. Their movements were crazed, almost like they were wild beasts; they were both pushed closer to me, and I kept my mouth covered more tightly. Their heads clashed, and I could hear an almost guttural growl escaping the aggressive one.

"You are a gullible fool," he told the one I met earlier. "This girl you met poisoned your mind! You really think she's a sister of the sea?!"

"She was a perfect candidate—" his partner struggled to speak, pressed against the tree. "She'd never seen the sea before—we could show her the way…!"

"Did Team Aqua's teachings fall on deaf ears with you?!" The girl shrieked in equal anger, a finger pressed to her temple. "All those lessons from Matt—Shelly—_Archie_ never made it through to you? We are sheep among wolves, primed to slaughter!"

"There are land-dwellers everywhere, trying to deceive you," the other chimed in. "They're trying to pull you away from the sea. They'd have you stuck on land to _rot_!"

"The girl you met today was a _land-whore!_" the woman hissed.

"We were ordered to keep the Woods on lockdown, and we're going to do just that," he finally let the other person go, standing on his own to feet. "Any day now, the wave Archie promised will come across Hoenn. And when that happens—we need to have done our job to avoid being washed away. Praise the sea."

"…Praise the sea." The other man echoed, voice more subdued.

"Praise the sea," the woman added.

I found myself transfixed my their conversation, in disbelief that I was listening to people so insane, it made me grateful for how sheltered I was in Littleroot. I thought, these are the type of monsters that would kill people—kill Pokémon in their home. Spike was right from the start, calling them deviant creatures. I wanted nothing more than to get away from them before they could do the same to me, but I was stuck.

"_I'll ask you one more time, kid,_" Willow's words rang in my ears. "_Before I do it myself. Let me out so I can take these bastards on._"

I couldn't reply, too terrified that they would be able to hear my faintest whisper. Instead, I refused him with my silence. I heard him groan in frustration.

"_We can't let them get away with this,_" he pleaded his case. "_There's nothing I hate more than humans leveraging power over Pokémon. Silcoon and Cascoon are completely defenseless before they evolve. It was a senseless slaughter._"

I responded with silence. It made me think of Geisha.

"_We didn't spend those weeks practicing battles to cower in fear!_" he shouted in my ear, angry with my inaction, before his voice slowly tempered to a calmer tone. "_I remember the advice you gave that kid in Petalburg. Dig deep to get what he wanted, was it? Well, where are you now? Is this what digging deep looks like? Digging in a hole to hide?_"

I had to admit, Willow was striking the right chords with me. Seeing the carnage Team Aqua caused this forest had me so worked up, that I lost what most people knew me for—my calm demeanor. So, instead of his words making me feel pathetic, I felt my eyes sink with focus, my mind parting the fog of doubt and inviting clarity.

He made me realize something. There was something I felt more than fear—it was anger. Anger at Team Aqua for making me feel pathetic. Anger at them for having such disregard for life, human and Pokémon alike.

As things became clear to me, only for that passing instance, it was a high I never felt before. I was amped. Though it was brief, I felt like I could kill someone. Slipping the bandanna off of my head, I released the hair atop my head. I wrapped the green cloth around the lower half of my face, masking it so they wouldn't remember me.

"_Yes,_" Willow praised me, like a devil on my shoulder. "_Dig. Deep._"

I slowly rose back to my feet, shoulders lifting themselves out of the brush. The Aqua members were still chatting amidst themselves.

"What's our next move?"

"I'd love to go put that bastard Mr. Briney in his place. He's been a thorn in our side for far too long now."

I reached for a Pokéball at my hip. Their backs were still turned.

"That can wait. The boss wants us to lock down Rustboro once we've cleared out the Woods. He must have something big planned."

"I'm sure he's—"

Finally, one of them noticed me out of cover, his eyes wide.

With an accuracy that stunned even myself, I lobbed the Pokéball in my palm straight into the center of the trio, just as their heads all whipped around to meet my gaze.

"It's her!" The one I met earlier bellowed. They were all clasping at their Pokéballs the moment they were blinded by the release of Willow at their feet.

I saw a streak of green blur between them, knocking them at the joints of their legs. Though Willow was small, he packed more power than a human could possibly wield; and, their bodies were flung from the simple strike. In their tumble, several of their Pokéballs crashed across the forest floor, rolling away from their grasp.

"The god-damn _land whore!_" The other grunt I didn't recognize hollered in anguish, prone across his back from Willow's strike. I didn't need to tell my Treecko he should follow through; he leapt onto the chest of the one that insulted me.

But, before he could knock the grunt out, he released a Pokémon from the ball he clung onto in his hand. From the light, a Poochyena flew out, meeting Willow's advance. The two of them rolled off the grunt's body in a clash of fangs and claws, tumbling over each other with a primal intensity.

Just as the other grunts were gaining their bearings, I was sidling across their vision, towards the maze of trees and breaking sight.

"Don't let her get away!"

The two furthest from Willow rose to their feet and gave chase, spreading out so I couldn't peg them both with the same fling of a Pokéball a second time. Quickly, I bent my body in my advance around the trees, keeping crouched and hidden from their field of view. I could hear the desperation in their breaths; not only did I catch them completely off-guard, but most of their Pokéballs had been disposed by Willow's advance.

Before I decided how to deal with the two grunts searching for me, I peered over quickly to assess Willow's situation. To no surprise from me, the Poochyena he was battling with was already strewn across the forest floor, unconscious; in the moment, I had no pity for the Pokémon of murderers. Meanwhile, the trainer, shocked at the sight of his Pokémon being so easily dispatched, skittered to his feet, attempting to flee in the opposite direction.

"Go." I whispered in a voice only my Pokémon could hear.

Next, Goonie broke from cover; typically, Zigzagoon moved in strange ways to disorient his opponents. But Goonie beelined it towards his target, with a primal intensity that I hadn't seen in the trained beast since I saved him from the Petalburg Gym. In no time flat, he caught up to the fleeing grunt's ankles, tripping him with a clamp of his tendon, clawing up his back. When I heard the screams, all I thought was—good.

A forceful palm broke its way into the crevice I was hiding in; the grunt I met by the beach was standing off against me, his expression furious. But, I saw the façade cracking; he was desperate, afraid even.

"I _trusted _you!" he shouted.

With no hesitation, my third Pokémon of the encounter was released.

Spike leapt with a snarl, latching herself onto his wrist and drawing blood instantly. The grunt was appalled by the attack, letting out a fearful squeal as his head knocked into the tree-trunk behind him, crashing to the earth beneath him.

I broke from my cover to approach him. But, before I could reach him, a shriek caught my attention. It was an unsettling sight—the woman grunt was sprinting directly towards me, no Pokémon with her any longer. I didn't expect to be attacked by a person—that never happened in a battle before, not in my experience. Because it was so surprising, I was slow to react, knocked to the floor with her on top of me.

Her knees were pressed into the joint of my left arm, leaving it pressed tightly across the side of my body. My other hand was promptly clasped at its wrist and held down, the grunt's other hand at my neck beneath the rag I was keeping over my mouth. Exasperated, she let a devious grin paint itself across her face, leaning in to stare me down.

"You reek of Repels," she said. "Those won't keep you safe from _me_."

Despite never being attacked before, I was still perfectly calm.

My hand was close enough to my belt to reach the canisters I left at my hip as a last resort earlier. My movement was fluid, and I wriggled my shoulder free from her lock, able to point the Repel at her face, unloading the spray.

The cloud covered her entire head-space, blinding her. She released an ear-piercing scream of anguish, recoiling in pain. I was able to wriggle my leg free, pressing the sole of my Running Shoe against her stomach and kicking her off of me.

Writhing across the floor, the grunt was blinded by the spray; I could only hope that it was temporary. But, I didn't care in the present. Rising to my feet, I dusted myself off, reaching for the bag at my hip, holding it by the straps. Before the woman could spout any more profanities about me, I swung the bag like a mace, sending it into her face and knocking her unconscious with the final strike.

Whatever just happened, I didn't know I had in me to do.

Turning to the last remaining grunt still in my field of vision, I was met with a full display of Spike's wrath, pulling away at his shirt and pants, tugging with her fangs and growling with a guttural, vicious tone. I snapped, calling the attack off, and ordering my Poochyena back to my side. The grunt was bloody, most visible in his face.

He pulled a Pokéball from his shirt, whipping it outwards towards us wildly. My stare back at him was cold, calculated. I wasn't afraid anymore—it was the strangest phenomenon, but it was true. Something in me really did snap earlier. He made his way back onto his feet wearily, and I let it happen.

"Take your friends and get out of here," I said with a metered tone. His breaths were ragged, and he was far from calm. But, even in such a crazed state, he was able to crack a bloody smile.

"You don't scare me," he said, voice desperate and unhinged. "I'd rather bathe in blood than grovel at your feet."

Alert to the device in his hand, I gestured at Spike to ready herself for a fight. The grunt pulled his arm back before releasing the Pokéball with a forceful shove.

To my surprise, it never hit the ground.

Something caught the Pokéball out of the air, in a blue blur. Stunned by the sight, I saw the Tailow that attacked me earlier break from the tree-line, clasping the Pokéball between its talons, whipping its wings wildly to remain airborne.

It clicked for me in that moment. The Tailow didn't hate humans. It hated trespassers. The moment it saw me attack them, we were allies.

The sight was almost comical to me. The grunt's conviction was erased immediately, as he realized that he was defenseless. So, instead of sticking it out to the bitter end like he implied he would, I watched the man turn tail and flee northward, scurrying beyond my sight like a rat back to the sewers.

My body finally registered that the fight was over, and I was suddenly overcome with a weight of exhaustion across my whole body. I wanted to collapse and rest right where I stood. Whatever bravery I was possessed by, it was used up. As I was slumped to a seated position on the forest floor, I leaned in to speak softly towards Spike, pointing towards the Tailow perched atop a Pokéball across from us.

"See if you can negotiate with our new friend," I told her.

In the passing moments of my Poochyena communicating with the Tailow, I watched my other companions—Willow and Goonie—return from their respective battles, all of us grouped together again finally. After a long-winded conversation, Spike eventually returned to the group to report the situation.

"_He's a local_," Spike said. "_Team Aqua wiped out most of the Pokémon in this forest. He's been trying to get back at them ever since. He said he'd like to repay us._"

"He doesn't have to do that," I said.

"_Yeah, well, you can tell him that yourself,_" she replied, nudging at my bag. "_Because he's the most stubborn Pokémon I've ever met._"

With a weariness to my movements I rose back up to my feet to head towards the small avian Pokémon lying in wait across from us. It seemed undeterred by my approach, expectant of what would happen next. Reaching into my bag, I found one of my empty Pokéballs, holding it up towards the creature before it made contact with it willingly. After a flash, it was out of sight, in its new home.

"My friend says you're stubborn," I told him, managing a smirk.

"_I'm proud of that fact,_" the Tailow answered, his voice young and sleek in tone. "_That friend of yours is honest. She told me you were an excellent trainer. Jade, was it?_"

"That's the name. I wouldn't call myself excellent, though."

"_Then you're probably too humble,_" he flattered me. "_I saw you—fighting right alongside your Pokémon. That's true bravery. That's a trainer I could get behind._"

My performance against Team Aqua was still baffling me, in all honesty. And, I didn't think anything about it was particularly brave—it felt like I had something to prove, and that was the only reason I broke cover and did what I had to. But, I was open to the idea of this Tailow becoming a part of our traveling group, if only because it would save him from having to live in these horrible Woods the rest of his life.

"I gotta ask," I said. "What do you want out of this? Traveling with us, I mean."

"_There are more members of that group,_" he answered. "_Many more. I have a feeling, if I travel alongside you, I'll be able to encounter them. And, the next time it comes to blows, I'll be happy to fight alongside you._"

I nodded in admiration.

"A noble enough reason. Welcome aboard, Apache."

The introduction was cut short by a presence on the absolute edge of my periphery. Suddenly, my exhaustion vanished, and the wash of cold overcame me again as I held a Pokéball out towards whatever figure appeared near my blind spot. All my Pokémon on the battlefield turned to face them alongside me.

To my surprise, it was the girl I spoke with near the dead body—the grunt that let me go. She didn't seem deterred by my presence in the least; the others attacked me the moment they saw me, but she didn't do that either time. Instead of looking at me with the crazed expression her comrades shared, she had a prideful smile across her face.

"Wow," she said. Her level of comfort with me only put me further on edge. "I think I underestimated you."

I observed her cautiously. She didn't reach for her Pokéballs, or get any closer. It seemed like she didn't come here for a fight, at least. I could sense a curiosity peeking through her calm demeanor.

"What's your name?" She finally asked.

I saw no reason to lie.

"Jade," I said back.

"Good name," she remarked, backing away from me with a few steps. "Since you exceeded my expectations, I'll return the favor. The name's Zinnia."

I thought back to my talk on the beach; the other grunt wouldn't dare tell me his name. That, or he abandoned it in order to join Team Aqua. This girl, Zinnia, was so wildly different from the rest of the cultists I ran into. But, instead of offering more information about her, she turned away to exit the forest southward.

"I'll see ya around, Jade," she said.

"Wait."

I couldn't help myself. With the call, her head turned back towards me

"You don't belong in Team Aqua," I told her. "Why are you running around with them?"

Instead of giving me a concrete answer, she multiplied the mystery for me. With a swing of her body, she pivoted to face me, head hunched to shoulder height as she gave a wide grin behind a single finger pressed in front of her lips. She let out a long, calm:

"_Shhhhhhh._"

And just like that, she turned and left.


	6. Part Six: The School

**Chapter Six: The School**

* * *

**_From now on, I'll be including an update of the team every time there is a relevant change! Please note, on some occasions, these numbers are an estimation, as my note-taking wasn't perfect. But, they are educated guesses at worst. I played through Emerald with a strict level limit, meaning my team was NEVER higher-leveled than the Gym Leaders I battled. Without further ado, the adventure resumes!_**

**_Current Team: _**

**_Willow the Treecko (male) Lv. 13_**

**_Geisha the Cascoon (female) Lv. 9_**

**_Spike the Poochyena (female) Lv. 12_**

**_Goonie the Zigzagoon (male) Lv. 12_**

**_Apache the Tailow (male) Lv. 12_**

* * *

The sight of the next city's skyline made the Woods all worth it.

I couldn't help but jog the rest of the way. After what felt like an endless labyrinth of trees, Route 104 opened back up. The air was fresh, the roads paved, the sky clear. No cultists as far as my eyes could see. But, the peace only aided my exhaustion. It wasn't a proud four hours. I slogged my way down the path ahead, past the fields on each side. Further north, I saw a brick building, smoke billowing out the stout chimney—the first sign of life since I left the forest. Cartons of berries were stacked over each other neatly on the exterior, a shopkeep mingling with visitors. It looked like there were plenty of off-brand supplies to buy; but I was in no shape to go shopping. Beyond my ragged and bruised appearance, I wasn't in the mood for socializing. I left the shop behind, in favor for the winding wooden bridge bending above a shallow pond, shimmering a purplish hue in the setting sun.

To my chagrin, there were trainers aplenty on the final stretch of the route. It was a stark contrast to the emptiness of Petalburg Woods; the further that nightmare was from me, the better. Luckily, my Pokémon weren't feeling nearly as weary, and were able to hold their own in every challenge that came our way. I welcomed the low-stakes battles—I was done fighting for my life today. And I'm sure my partners were, too.

Maybe this is isn't worth mentioning. But becoming a trainer is the quickest way to make _bank_. It had to be—if we're travelling around the region, there's no other salary. So, people are courteous with their rewards. Every battle we won, we made a day's worth of pay for the highest-end jobs back in Littleroot. Norman's Running Shoes, the best gift I ever got, felt like chump change.

As much as I tried to distance myself from the Woods, my curiosity got the best of me. Most trainers were friendly to their peers, so I decided to ask them about what that forest's deal was. Most of their answers were vague, because they weren't from around Petalburg. Just traveling and training, like I was. Although, it seemed pretty universal that trainers on this side of the forest were told not to enter anymore. That there was something dangerous going on, even though they didn't know what.

Eventually, I got a more concrete answer. It came from a blonde trainer named Cindy, adorned in a green dress. She told me that she was a local from Rustboro; based off the prize money she gave me when I sent her Zigzagoon packing, her family was probably well-off, too. That probably explained how she knew secrets the public didn't.

"About a month ago, there was an alert for a missing child," she told me. "Ever since, the League has sent out a message to all trainers—no one's allowed in or out of Petalburg Woods."

Good to know. I broke the law twice. Once to enter the Woods, and another to leave.

"It's been such a bother," Cindy continued. "We have to go the long way around to reach Petalburg now. Plus, this route's a dead end. It used to be so bustling with trainers."

"Sounds rough…" I replied, distracted by the question I was forcing myself to ask. "You mentioned a missing child… did they ever find them?"

"No, sadly. He was a boy that went to school in Rustboro. His family has no idea what happened to him."

My chest tightened, tense with guilt. With a hasted thank-you to the trainer, I pressed onward across the bridge. Telling anyone about the body would only make things more complicated. But, I couldn't help but feel sick, picturing my mother back in Littleroot. If I went missing, she would wait forever to find out what happened to me.

"_They know what happened to that boy, Jade._"

Spike's voice reached me, and she spoke like she could read my mind. In the short time I spent with my Pokémon, they could already tell what troubled me.

"_They wouldn't shut down the Woods if they didn't know,_" she justified. "_It sounds like the League is doing one hell of a cover-up._"

"They don't want people to know about Team Aqua," I whispered back.

"_What is this League you're talking about?_" Apache chimed in, apprehensive. "_If they're covering for Team Aqua… could they be pulling the strings?_"

"I honestly doubt it." Norman was plenty of negative things. But I knew for a fact the sea wasn't his God. If he took his job so seriously, he'd never accept colluding with maniacs like Team Aqua.

"_They're just trying to keep their secrets need-to-know,_" Willow added with a scoff. "_They think they can put Team Aqua down before anyone finds out. That's arrogance. The less people know about them, the more freely they can act in the presence of others._"

"Should we tip the police off?" I asked for their counsel. "Minus the parts where we broke the law. I mean, we'd be out of our depth trying to figure out more by ourselves… and we know a name—Zinnia. Maybe they could look into her."

"_We could try, but I'm not so sure it would matter…_" Goonie answered. "_She wouldn't be stupid enough to give away her name for free like that. It's either fake, or it doesn't mean anything to the police to begin with._"

If it was a fake name, she was good at lying. I kept traveling, puzzled by the idea that the police wouldn't know who Zinnia was. How is something like that possible? I was no expert on Hoenn, but I knew that our borders were closed to the rest of the world. No one got in, and no one got out—not without the League's permission, anyway. So if she was born here, they would have record of her. It was such a hassle to travel around the region, I couldn't imagine she came from out of _nowhere_.

The first thing to pull me out of my thoughts was the skyline to the north, breaking through the setting sunlight's horizon. Most of the buildings were tiered like cakes, layered apartments of similar size and shape, varying only in their distance to me. Window lights dotted my vision like fireflies dancing in front of my face, masked by a faint film of fog billowing from the city. Behind it all, there were factories, smokestacks fuming into the clouds bordering the height of my perspective. If I could even remotely read the map correctly, we were approaching Rustboro City. And, it was a sight welcome beyond belief, after the hurdles it took to arrive.

But, there was one final hurdle to overcome.

"Hey there!"

The voice, riddled with a smoky rasp, reached me as soon as I disembarked from the bridge, back onto the asphalt path heading straight towards Rustboro. I turned to face someone who appeared out-of-place—and that's coming from someone who didn't think it _got _more out-of-place than her. A portly man, at least a decade my elder, wore the most obvious tourist attire I had ever seen in my life; his blue floral-print dress shirt and white cargo shorts stuck out to me well before any of his features. The hair atop his head was bushy, curly by nature but greased with product, and receding on the sides. Underneath that were sunglasses hiding his eyes—impractical, since the sun was all but departed beneath the horizon's clouds.

Judging his approach, I assumed the usual routine. In my defense, it was a fine guess thinking he was coming towards me for a battle. Almost instinctively, I was reaching for my belt to ready my team. But, he reacted oddly, holding arms at shoulder-height in a faux surrender.

"Woah now," he said with emphasis; his accent was unfamiliar to me. "Hands off the balls, kid. I don't got a Pokémon to my name. Just came by to chit-chat."

I was no less wary of him after his assurance, metering a step in retreat as he took another towards me. If I could invent a term, he was giving me _Zinnia-vibes_. Shorthand for I had no idea what his deal was, and I was afraid to find out.

"Name's Scott," he introduced himself. "I'm somethin' of a trainer-fanatic. Just now, on my stroll outside of Rustboro, I couldn't help but notice you were _runnin' _this route, sendin' trainer after trainer packin'. So I thought I'd stop you and get a name."

Everything about him confused me, the way he spoke being the greatest offender. I came across enough people with hidden agendas the past few weeks, and the trend was exhausting me as much as Petalburg Woods did. Being assertive worked swimmingly against Wally, so I thought I'd repeat the approach.

"Who _are _you?" I asked behind narrowed eyes.

"I… just told you," he replied, seemingly baffled. "I'm Scott."

"That's _not _what I meant."

Despite Scott's rough exterior, I could tell he was smooth, at least socially. Instead of letting any honesty shine through the cracks, he let my accusations roll right off, shrugging with a slight guffaw as he loosened his posture.

"What d'you want, my whole life story?" He questioned. "Yeah, I ain't from around here, but neither are you. I'm big on Pokémon battles—traveled far to see some in person. Battles don't just show up at the front door, ya know. I gotta get out of the house to see 'em up close and personal."

A finger trailed his right cheek, pointed at the eye he kept obscured under his shades, tapping the glass twice.

"Only other thing you gotta know about me is I got an eye for talent," Scott said. "Doesn't take an expert to see you're going places in your career, kid. Now, come on—you could write a goddamn biography on _me _at this point. Gimme a name, at least!"

Swallowing my apprehension, I offered the courtesy with a cold demeanor.

"It's Jade."

"That's a name and a half," he remarked, his expression unclear beyond a smirk between his words. "You plannin' on takin' on the Gym Challenge, Jade?"

"I am. That's where I'm headed right now, actually."

I watched Scott do a double-take of the city behind him, before turning to me with a laugh, sly in its implications.

"At this hour? Not a chance. Lest you got a VIP pass from the goddamn Champ himself." He kept looking back towards the city, the eastern edge of the scape. "Day or night, Roxanne's a tough one to get ahold of. I'll never get why people like her gotta be workin' every second of the day—live a little. They wouldn't even let me snoop around the school. Although I guess that's fair if I don't got a Pokémon to my name…"

I was impressed. I didn't even need to interrupt him. He just stopped himself, noticing how visibly perplexed and lost I was with what he was talking about.

"Haven't heard much of Roxanne, have you?" Scott asked. "All good. Everybody's gotta start somewhere. I've got just the card for the occasion."

I watched him reach for the pocket on his shirt, perhaps too irrationally worried that he would draw a Pokéball on me like Team Aqua did. But, I untensed as soon as he pulled a card from his pocket, shimmering slightly from a holographic sheen. My eyes fixated on it as I was apprehensive to retrieve it from his offering grasp.

"Any trainer that works for the League's got a Trainer Card," he told me. "They're collectibles. I have a ton, so you can keep that one."

Tilting the card to its sides in my hands, I tried to bypass the shine to see the image of the woman printed on the front. Her head of brunette hair was tightly kept, wrapping around the sides of her skull into two ponytails, stuck out the back and bowed together by red ribbons. She was older than me, but the difference was negligible—possibly because it was digitally enhanced. While her dress, or what I could see of it, was a dulled black, it only accented the intense red of her eyes, almost scarlet in hue.

"Each card has a rundown of the trainer's deal," Scott said. "But, I'll TLDR it for ya real quick. Roxanne is a local of Rustboro that received top marks at the University. People call her a genius, and she's got the degrees to prove it. The League gave her the rank of Gym Leader for it, and she runs the Department of Education as part of her job."

"No wonder she's so busy all the time," I remarked, flipping the card in my grasp to see a wall of text on the back, deciding to skim it some other time (if ever).

"Yeah, well, if you ask me, she's got enough ego for _three _Gym Leaders. Nobody should have to schedule an appointment for a Gym Challenge. I hear down south, Norman takes on dozens a day. Now that's dedication to the cause."

"I'm sure he'd love to hear you say that."

"You know what? I bet he would." With a nod, Scott adjusted the red device wrapped over his chest like a necklace. "I'll be seein' ya, Jade. I'm off to Petalburg."

Part of me was relieved that he was leaving as abruptly has he arrived. But, I was confused by his decision, passing me on the left and making his way onto the bridge. Unable to stop myself, I whipped around to inform him.

"You can't go that way," I said with a voice loud enough for him to hear. "I tried. Petalburg Woods is closed."

He held the back of his hand out, not turning or stopping in the slightest.

"I'll see it for myself."

And he was gone, just like that.

"_Hoenn has too many lunatics._" With the absence of other humans, Willow spoke up from his Pokéball to my side.

"How are we any different?" I asked, hoping it was quiet and discreet enough to avoid being seen talking to myself.

"_Don't lump me in with that idiot._"

"_Yeah, Jade. Keep him in his own league,_" Spike chimed in with a quip of her own. "_This guy doesn't like being a part of ANY group…_"

"_Got something to say, dog? Are you disappointed I don't want to be a part of your clique of rentals and house pets?_"

"_Excuse me?!_"

"Alright, alright." I spoke sternly. "New rule—no fighting that doesn't involve earning experience or prize money. We're moving."

The rest of the trip into Rustboro was silent. Thank whatever god Team Aqua _didn't _praise. No Scotts or infighting to speak of. The tourist's little distraction was enough to allow the sun to fully set, and it was officially nighttime in the darkened streets. The lights hung above on lamps were only just activating as I strolled into town, my exhaustion turning it into a near-hobble. We were in a new area, with plenty to take in. But it all would have to wait—my focus zeroed in on the one thing I recognized in the foreign city. The red roof of a Pokémon Center was directly ahead. With tunnel vision, I arrived at the safe haven, never more grateful for free health care than I was then.

Almost bypassing everything other than a comfy bed, I had to be flagged down by the clerk to give her my information. The foyer was more crowded than any Center I slept in before, but I was too tired to mingle with any more strangers; funny how it wasn't the run-in with Team Aqua that exhausted me, but a single conversation with Scott. Letting the escalator lead me upstairs, I slinked my way towards the end of the rightmost hall, struggling with the door for a passing moment before reaching the final destination for the day—the freshly-made, housekeeping-tended bed at the end of the room.

With dramatic flair, I collapsed over top it. I was sleepy enough to not bother with covers and nightwear, figuring that I would lull away to dream land in no time. But, it took a bit longer than expected, my mind still wandering with questions. And because of my careless crash onto the bed, I still had my Pokéballs at my hip through the night.

After about an hour of steady breaths, trying to calm myself to sleep, my Pokémon began to speak to each other. I was certain they didn't know I could hear.

"_Why do you always make things so hard for Jade?_" Spike asked. Although I was rigid with tension, hearing a conversation I wasn't supposed to, I remained completely still. If they realized I was a part of this call, it would have made things worse.

"_Why are you pinning that on me?_" Willow asked back, after a moment's hesitation. I could tell that he was deciding if he should even reply at all. "_She made her life hard on purpose by leaving home. That was her choice._"

"_You know you're being difficult._" She said plainly. "_Not just with us—with her, too. That's not what a trainer's Pokémon is supposed to be like._"

"_What do YOU know about being a trainer's Pokémon?_" Willow asked, almost mockingly. "_You might as well have a collar on._"

"_Yeah, alright, you've got me. I was a pet. But you can't tell me that being bred in that fucking lab was all that different from being a child's lapdog. I've wanted to be a trainer's Pokémon my entire life. This is a blessing for the both of us._"

"_A blessing?!_" He scoffed. "_What part about being owned by humans is a blessing? The part where we're stripped of our home, or the part where we risk our lives constantly?_"

"_That isn't what this is, Willow. Come on,_" Spike spoke to him aggressively, but there was a hint of pleading in her voice. "_You aren't a tool in Jade's toolbox. You're her first Pokémon. She listens, she learns. She's a hell of a better trainer than any human either of us have lived under. Why can't you accept that?_"

In the ensuing silence, I found myself holding my breath, trying my best to remain frozen, holding on to every word they spoke. A few weeks ago, it seemed insane to be able to even _hear _a Pokémon speak. Now, it was a whole new experience, listening to them when they didn't know. Eventually, I heard the sound of Willow sigh.

"_You'll see. It doesn't matter how good the trainer is. We all get used in the end, until we're used up for good._"

With a groan, I heard Goonie interject.

"_Hey, could you guys save it for the morning? I'm trying to sleep._"

You and me both, Goonie.

But it was too hard to sleep after that.

* * *

With the arrival of daylight, it was easy to tell that Rustboro City was the most modern place I ever traveled through. Everywhere I looked, there was no grass to speak of; roads were paved, surrounded by concrete tiling that reached the edges of each home and office building. It had an unfamiliar, urban feel to the layout. While it took longer than expected to get my bearings, I was able to weave my way through the flow of human traffic, certain that there were plenty of other tourists all around me.

What surprised me the most about Rustboro was its variety. Not just in its people, but businesses as well. I was used to Littleroot townsfolk with homebrew remedies to every problem that could arise in such a secluded place. Here, there were businesses, trademarked signs. People outside of the League's influence were trying to sell trainer gear—discs lined up in boxes, a complete mystery to me. Wary of my funds, I kept a fair distance away from any shop I couldn't trust; even with the money I was making in battles, a sudden emergency could dry the funds up quickly. I never had money before—so I was afraid to spend it.

I was certain there was plenty more to learn about the city. But, I decided that there was nowhere better to visit than the Trainer School.

Scott mentioned it earlier, but it seemed to be the talk of the entire city from what I could gather from the locals. To most, the main draw of Rustboro was its university. It was the first I ever got to see in person, but there were plenty of schools in Hoenn; Rustboro's was the only one that was funded by the League. From what I could gather, it was another way the League kept the average person from becoming a trainer. Only one school in the entire region offered classes that taught people everything they needed to learn about training a Pokémon. It offered every other major under the sun too, of course. But, it was famous for its alumni trainers, including the supposed Gym Leader I heard so much about. The Gym was nothing beyond a school stadium in the center of the campus.

I had to admit—approaching the campus, I couldn't help but be halted by jealousy. I would have loved to be sent here at some point. I would have happily wrote whatever essay or took whatever classes necessary to come here, and become a trainer through my own merit. I don't know if there was anyone to blame, but that never happened. Instead, I was the kid that practically stole her first Pokémon, and fumbled her way here almost on accident.

The congested city opened up once I passed through the university gates, fields of grass between snaking pathways. The buildings were more modern, the students dispersed amidst them. It surprised me how much I fit in, at least in age. No one stared or made me feel out of place. I used that to my advantage, getting close to anyone who could give me answers. I wasn't here for campus life. I was here hunting a Gym Leader.

Asking anyone, it became clear that Roxanne was more of a celebrity than an actual employee of the university. Depending on who I was talking to, they were either admirers, or intimidated by her. And, although everyone had an opinion, no one was certain where she was. Some said she was in the union building in the center of campus. Others said she was home by this hour. Some claimed to know where she spent her free time, in hidden spots tourists would never find. I ended up checking them all. No Roxanne.

Slowly, I learned that the students here had big heads. They all called the university home, but almost none of them were actual trainers. They boasted a deep knowledge of the League, without a single Pokéball to their name. A primary population of business majors.

Eventually, I found someone who knew what they were talking about. They were younger than most of the students—probably a special case. Her knowledge of Roxanne was more than passing. She was taught by her directly.

"She only teaches trainers through League recommendation," she explained. "Not even the honors kids can apply for her classes. Most her seminars are closed-door. This time of day, she's holding a seminar somewhere in the REC center, I think."

I walked away from our talk with answers. And, after another set of questions to the _next_ student I came across, I learned what the REC center was.

I couldn't help but think Scott was right. It shouldn't have to be this hard.

Weaving through halls of white tile, I passed every double-door entrance, peering into the lightless conference halls, one after another. Empty. The further the afternoon dragged on, I noticed a growing absence of students, heading for their apartments as night drew near. The thought started to manifest—I wouldn't find her today. Right before the possibility was about to become a certainty, I reached the room at the end of the hall.

The lights were on. I could hear someone talking.

Feeling rushed, and happy to reach what I was looking for, I opened the door without considering what could happen from intruding in the middle of a class.

The room wasn't as crowded as I expected—perhaps eight, nine bodies in the seats, listening intently, not alerted to my presence in the least. I looked left, facing the front of the room, chalkboard smeared from haphazard erases. Standing in the front was the woman I recognized only from the trainer card in my pocket. A brunette in a black skirt, scraping something across the board as she prattled on.

"It's essential to memorize these conditions," she said, marking a bulleted list behind her. "Paralysis… poison… sleep… burn… freeze… confusion… and attraction. Different moves can trigger these effects, and could prove lethal to an unprepared trainer. But, they are valuable tools in the right hands. Any condition you can induce against an opposing Pokémon is leverage. Keep yourself stocked with healing items—"

Finally, her eyes locked with mine. I felt myself on the opposing end of a vicious, crimson gaze. It was an expression upkept with beauty, which masked the intense suspicion and intuition.

"…And your opponent will have no choice to surrender," she finished her statement. The distraction was finally made known to the students in the front row, all stunned by my sudden presence.

Although I was embarrassed, I was in too deep to be deterred.

"Hello," I began, introduction stunted. "I'm looking for Roxanne, the Gym Leader."

With a risen eyebrow, her intensity lightened. I watched her place the chalk back on the board's ledge, sweeping herself around the back side of her desk, passing the corner.

"Well, you almost found her," she said, projecting enough for the class could hear. "Roxanne the Gym Leader is available by appointment. You're speaking to Roxanne the Professor—nice to meet you."

I heard chuckles echo from the crowd. My cheeks reddened involuntarily, but I knew the drill. To get anything done, to get anything I wanted in this world, I had to stand my ground. Roxanne was just another name on the shit list, the one Norman topped.

"Could you take a message?" I asked.

"Could you give a name?" she asked back, eyes to the paper on her desk.

"Jade."

Roxanne's eyes rose.

"Norman's kid."

The remark made my heart sink. But, I wouldn't let myself fall into old habits, and I refused to lose my vantage by asking countless questions.

"He told you," I assumed. There was a spark of recognition from her.

"We talk now and then," Roxanne said, beginning to pace. "He told me you would come. Eventually." With a gesture, she aimed an arm at her students and sent my attention their way. "Jade—could you share with the class your number of badges?"

"None," I said abruptly; I had hoped it would sound less embarrassing if I didn't hesitate. But I knew I was being made a lesson of either way.

"This is a key difference to bear in mind," Roxanne turned to her students; it didn't feel like she was explaining this to me at all. "For a trainer to challenge Hoenn's Gym Leaders, they need to be endorsed by a member of the League. Our guest Jade is just starting out, meaning she'll be a part of the Minor League. A trainer earns their first four badges in the Minor League, the next four in the Major League."

I watched her plop several books atop her desk, procured from the various drawers on the back side, continuing the lecture.

"The Minor League isn't televised, and Gym Leaders are prohibited from using high-level Pokémon. Meaning, it limits my options of partners." She tapped the side of her head, where hair ended and forehead began. "But, no amount of rules can limit knowledge. It's important that you study every day, to maintain any advantage you can have in battle."

She turned, and caught me directly in my fit of cluelessness. I never heard of any Minor or Major League before. As much as I disliked being made an example of, all it did was show me there was a gap between us in experience. I could have assumed that was the case with any Gym Leader, but for it to be displayed publicly was making my chest tighten with discomfort.

"What types do you have on your team, Jade?" she asked.

I stared back, perplexed, suffocating in the silence of the room.

"A Treecko, a Cascoon, a Poochyena—"

There were some stifled chuckles echoing from the students, flaring my frustration.

"No, I asked for your Pokémon's _types_, not their species," Roxanne corrected me. "The several-hundred discovered species are broken down into eighteen types, each with their own specific strengths and weaknesses. Learning the type chart is one of the essentials of being a trainer. Jade… did you come all the way from Petalburg without knowing that?"

I was ashamed, and too prideful to admit it in front of everyone, but I had no clue what she was talking about. I spent nearly a month training with my team, sending them out against wild Pokémon, with no information on them beyond their names. Training them was enough—so I thought. It was easy for me to assume that it was like training a person, through exercise and practice. I mean, that's why I thought they were called 'Gyms'. It really showed that I never went to school, being mocked by the student trainers in their seats, the source of gossip.

Before I could answer, Roxanne knew, extending her arm towards me. On reflex, my hands caught the book she pressed against my clavicle. Up close, I found myself intimidated by her. The Gym Leader was hardly an imposing figure, but from the way she conducted herself, it was clear she held power. Figurative, or otherwise. For the first time since I interrupted her lesson, her focus was entirely on me, and nothing else, finger poised in front of my face.

"You can make any assumption you'd like," she told me. "But I'm not patronizing you, Jade. It's a Gym Leader's job to teach. And it's a teacher's job to discipline. You're not stupid. But, you _are _reckless for coming all this way so unprepared."

"I was prepared—" I answered impulsively. "I bought plenty of Potions."

"Potions won't do you any good if your partners get poisoned."

"I bought Antidotes too!"

"And, did you research the signs of a Pokémon being poisoned? If the Wurmple on Route 104 poisoned your partners, would you have noticed?"

"Well…"

"And what if they were burnt, or paralyzed? What would you have done—prayed the wild Pokémon would leave you alone long enough to flee to a Center?"

"Uh, that's…"

"The routes around Petalburg are laughably tame compared to abroad. You're fortunate to not live around fire-type habitats—all it would take is a wild beast with a fire-type move to torch your team."

"I…"

"Treecko is grass-type. One of their many weaknesses is fire. The same with your Cascoon, too. Don't you think that's important to know?"

"Alright—I get it!"

My sudden outburst silenced her ridicule, but her judgement was still palpable. As my logic failed, it was being replaced with anger, however irrational it was. I was furious to be so called out. But, I had no follow-up. And Roxanne was ready with the rebound.

"You may think of me as snobby—secluding my classes in such selective company," she said. "But, a fully-fledged trainer is responsible for _six lives_ minimum. I refuse to oversaturate Hoenn with half-assed candidates. An uneducated trainer may as well be abusive. If you want to challenge my Gym, you need to prove you deserve to be a trainer."

This time, I scoffed with ridicule. Even if it was inappropriate to mock her, she made it easy. She pissed me off more than I could have expected.

"It makes perfect sense you're so close to Norman. You're _just_ like him. Making me jump through these hoops when all I want is a damn badge!"

"You can hate me for what I said," Roxanne's eyes were still trailed to me intensely. "But, you don't seem to disagree with my assessment. You're unprepared."

I practically flung the book into my bag, storming off and away from all the ridiculing eyes from the classroom stands. She insisted that I wasn't stupid, but she certainly put in the effort to make me _feel _stupid.

"Your assignment is due by the end of the month, Jade," I heard Roxanne call to me moments before I could leave her view. "My eight students are training rock-type Pokémon, just like me. If you can defeat them all in under thirty days, I'll take you on."

* * *

Cursing wasn't enough. When I made it back to my room in the Center, it was wrecked in my thrashing tantrum.

I never had a temper as a kid. It was only recently I noticed, on my trip across Hoenn, I was starting to become more irritable and aggressive. Part of me feared it was a dreaded phase. But, it was more likely because the outside world had so much more to get upset over. In the company of nobody besides my Pokémon, I felt comfortable blowing off some steam. Staring at the wreckage, sheets and pillows strewn across the room, I processed my thoughts as best I could.

Okay. So I was a shitty trainer—I feel like that was covered already. By Brendan, by Norman. Hell, by my own _Pokémon _sometimes. It would have been so easy to write Roxanne off, to say she was unfairly rude and belittled me in front of her class. But that would have been too easy to forget. What she said stuck with me too much for it to be so simple. She didn't just make me feel idiotic.

She made me feel incredibly, unmistakably _guilty_.

"_Ah, don't let that lady get to you too much, Jade,_" I heard Goonie assure me, the first one brave enough to address my tantrum. "_You were right about her. She's just like Norman. Jumps at any opportunity to make others feel small._"

"I don't know."

Seated across my unmade bed, my posture was hunched pensively, staring off at the room emptily. Atop of being ridiculed, I was starting to realize that this was the first I was talking to my Pokémon since I overheard them arguing about me last night.

"_People like to act like they know what's in a Pokémon's best interest._" Apache added, a tinge of vitriol for the Gym Leader apparent in his tone. "_They don't. I could tell that woman thought she could simplify it to terms and numbers. She couldn't possibly know how well you've led this team._"

"I still feel bad."

"_About what, Jade?_"

"She was furious," I fought back from rolling my eyes. "Maybe obviously. But, I was just surprised… she was only mad because she _cared _what happened to you guys."

I paused to develop my thoughts, surprised at how silent the room became. My Pokémon probably didn't consider that. They were used to being an afterthought to most people—the fact that I would even _talk _to them was more than what they got from most humans. And, to be honest, I was caught off-guard. I met a Gym Leader who was sympathetic towards Pokémon. Like me, like Wally. Though she hid it well.

"She was concerned for your safety…" I admitted. "And, I'm just worried that maybe she cared more about it than I do. I thought we'd be fine, just trying to brute force our way through routes and gyms."

"_The only thing that's obvious to me is that you care._"

This time, Spike was the one to interject. I was surprised to realize she was so quiet. Out of the whole group, she was the quickest to counsel. Her silence suggested that she was still working off the argument with Willow.

"_Nature is nothing BUT brute force,_" Apache added. "_It's not like I had a better chance at life back in the Woods._"

"That's not what I want," I argued back. "I don't want travelling with me to be as dangerous as a forest controlled by a _cult_. You should expect better of me."

"_What we expect shouldn't matter,_" he replied, sternly and stubbornly. "_What you provide is a head to this body. We survive through your lead._"

"What good is a head that doesn't know anything?! I don't even know what _type _you are, Apache. Bird? Is that even a goddamn type?"

"_Jade—_"

"No more. I'm figuring this out right now."

Unlatching the belt from my side, I tossed the leather strap, Pokéballs attached, to the corner of my bed, away from my grasp. If they weren't on me, I couldn't hear my Pokémon. I didn't want to. Because, deep down, I wanted to prove that I was more stubborn than them. That I cared more than anyone that we succeeded. I wanted my match with Norman to be something more than a petty, selfish dream. I wanted it to be something I earned. I wanted to look back after it was finished and have no regrets. I didn't want to lose anyone because I was a stupid, useless trainer.

I opened the book and started at the only place that made sense. Page one.

Hours probably passed. I refused to skim, entrenched in every paragraph, soaking up as much information as I could manage. It was dense, college level to say the least, and I finally realized—all those years, those books on my shelf in Littleroot. They were for children. Silly, inconsequential warnings for kids. Spitting fun facts about Pokémon so Hoenn's youths wouldn't run out onto a route like foolhardy idiots.

I was that idiot. Even after I read them.

The introductory pages were filled with information I felt like I already knew. But I refused to skip them, sponging every last fact I could get. Maybe there was something about tall grass that I _didn't _know. Maybe the differences between male and female Zigzagoon mattered. Maybe, maybe. Maybe I was going a little crazy.

It was hard to tell from inside the Center, but it had to have been nighttime by chapter one. Pokémon eggs. I was out of my depth already. There was an entire anthology of Pokémon compatible for mating—egg groups and all. Charts filled with thousands of Pokémon, categorized in diagrams. Followed by jargon. Effort values? Individual values? There were entire sections on the inherent difference between the same species of Pokémon from birth; to me, it sounded like eugenics, and it disgusted me a little. But, did I have to know these things? There was another section that disproved the heights and weights commonly recorded by scientists. Which led to more questions—how the hell was so much of the information out there in the world wrong?! Maybe some of the facts in this book weren't true. Maybe I was reading false teachings. Maybe, maybe—

Dear god. What author would suffer through writing _this_ much about Pokémon?!

Eventually, the studying turned to torture, and my diligent reading lulled to a simple skim, my eyes burning from nonstop focus. It was a purgatory of endless knowledge, some of it useful, some of it useless, some of it unclear. It reminded me of everything I hated about Littleroot—feeling trapped, stuck in a loop, the alternative being worse. And, before I could collapse to involuntary rest, I was shaken from my trancelike commitment to the pages by a bright flash.

Spike, my Poochyena, was sitting at the end of the bed.

"What is it?" I asked.

No response. Or, rather, there couldn't have been. I watched Spike jostle her jaw, unlatching her Pokéball from my abandoned belt, carrying it in her mouth over to me across the bed. She sat, patiently, in front of me, directly inhibiting my view of the book, dropping her Pokéball over my lap.

"_It's almost morning,_" I heard her say. "_You've been reading for over twelve hours._"

I was too exhausted to act shocked. In all honesty, it felt like much, much longer. With the quickest glance, I saw four others at the end of the bed. Willow, Geisha, Goonie and Apache, all out of their devices. My eyes traced to the wall.

"I can only imagine how insane I look to all of you," I muttered tiredly. "Going overboard like I always seem to."

"_On the contrary._" Spike answered plainly, nocturnal eyes focused on me, allowing a faint fog of glow in the room, devoid of light beyond the little lamp on the nightstand. "_To be honest, I admire how hard you work when you have something to prove. All it took was one talk with your dad to set you on this course in the first place._"

"Assholes motivate me to be better."

"_Then I understand why that Treecko is a perfect fit for you._"

With a smirk I quickly hid, I tried to turn my attention back towards the book. But, there was a black paw placed over the corner of the page, and my attention was stunted.

"_The others and I have been talking,_" she pressed. "_And, we've decided that we're going to help you train._"

I scoffed, but it inevitably shifted to a laugh. Now, my eyes were finally wide with surprise, and I was far from asleep.

"Train _me_?!" I shook my head. "The tables really have turned, huh…? What, are you gonna toss me in the tall grass and see how I handle myself?"

"_If only it were that easy._" The comment was dripping with sarcasm, and I leaned back on the bed to give my full focus towards Spike. "_A trainer needs to practice more complicated things. They have to learn things Pokémon never need to know. We have to be strong enough. YOU have to be smart enough._"

"I wish I could do all the work," I admitted, almost desperately. "I really do. I don't like that I'm the only one that doesn't have to risk their life in battles."

"_I didn't either._"

Her doubt shocked me into silence.

"_I don't know. Maybe Willow was just getting to me…_" Spike continued, sparing a glance towards the others, sidelined patiently by the conversation. "_He started to make me think being a trainer's Pokémon… that it wasn't all that different from being a pet. But then, I started to question—what type am I?_"

I stared back, equally baffled by the question. I didn't know. I didn't get to that chapter yet.

"_I have no idea._" She admitted. "_I never knew that 'types' existed either. It's all so wild to me. Strengths and weaknesses I never knew about… What am I?_"

"It's not up to you to learn those things," I assured her. "It's a trainer's responsibility to give the orders. You guys should just be able to trust I make the right choices."

"_I think you're right. But… I was taught how to sit. And how to shake, and roll over. If I could learn that much, I should be able to learn the basics about what I am… don't you think?_"

"What are you getting at?"

"_We want to learn everything we can about ourselves, Jade,_" she said resolutely. "_Our types, what strategies to employ… everything. Because, if we learn them, it will help YOU learn. You spent all this time training us. It's only fair we return the favor._"

I just don't know. Maybe most trainers would find it ridiculous for their Pokémon to offer help with studying. But, if that was true, then I was _clearly _not most trainers. It reminded me that I wasn't alone. I used to be, which is why I was so accustomed to acting rashly, stubbornly, selfishly, to work towards something I wanted. But, it was touching—knowing my team wanted this just as much as I did. The easiest way for me to tell that I cared enough about my Pokémon was that they cared about me back.

Suddenly, it felt possible to do in a month what college kids did in a semester.

Before that, I had to get _everyone _on board. And, I didn't need anyone to tell me that Willow would take some convincing.

One grateful nod towards Spike later, I slid the book across the silky sheets of the center bed. They reached their mark, Willow stopping it with a stomp of his foot. The others looked on; we stared each other down.

"The Gym Leader called you a grass-type today," I said. "It was the first thing I looked up in the appendix."

He looked back at me, unable to speak, with the Pokéball forlorn beside him.

"I thought you'd find it interesting. Grass-types have the advantage over rock-types. Which happens to be that Leader's specialty."

His black pupils dropped down towards the page, before strafing up the golden sea that were his eyes, back towards me with an intensity, mostly masked by his calm exterior. Even without hearing him, I knew I got him.

"You don't like being mocked," I smiled. "You're the only one I know that hates it more than me. I say, fuck her deadline. We learn everything we can and leave that Gym with a badge by the end of the _week_."

No words necessary. Willow's closed fist and a slight nod were enough to motivate me to read. And read, and read. And sleep after—but only a little.


	7. Lorekeeper's Journal: Volume 1

_**Lorekeeper's Journal, Vol. 1**_

There's more to this story than meets Jade's eyes.

* * *

_Ten years ago, a young girl in Slateport City broke from her mold._

_Her mother remained at home, and her father was a local fisherman. Their lives revolved around the marketplace, as did what little money they made from it. It was enough to survive. Never enough to thrive. The family of three led a dull life, more committed to values than ambition. Because, unlike their neighbors, they believed._

_A painting was hung over their fireplace. The girl memorized it well. An artist's rendition of Lord Arceus' triumph in creation. A religion older than Hoenn, introduced by evangelists from Sinnoh centuries ago. The girl's parents were firm believers. Arceus was the solid rock they stood upon, perched and poised, watching the world sink around them. Because, even though their lives were dull, the mother and father could live happy. Because they believed they were right. _

_Roxanne was not so sure. _

_She went to school. She loved going to school. But the other kids were not like her. Their families were different, too. The other kids were allowed to eat every kind of Pokémon under the sun. Roxanne only ate what she brought with her, whatever Father fished up the night prior. Boys were never interested in her—and she wasn't allowed to be interested in them. Not without Arceus in their hearts. _

_The books at school read differently. They said that people and Pokémon were separate, and that trainers have existed for centuries. Father said no. Arceus made Pokémon, and some of them became enlightened. Those were humans. The books talked about legendary Pokémon. Father said no. The only legend was Arceus. Roxanne learned that the pattern was endless. School would say yes. Father would say no. _

_She was sixteen. And, instead of Arceus, Roxanne's heart was set on being a trainer. _

_Her friends, of the few she had, all dreamed of it. Because they knew it was the only way they could travel Hoenn with their parent's blessings. They adored the Pokémon League—Father would have called it their idol if he heard them. But Roxanne adored it too. The books at home bored her. She loved the books at school. The myths and legends about Pokémon, foreign and ancient, dangerous and beautiful, lovely and deadly._

_Could she be a trainer?_

_School said yes. Father said no._

"_Being a trainer is a man's job. And only a man who Arceus calls to service."_

_The answer at the dinner table was the same every time. It was a brick wall Roxanne enjoyed splitting her skull against. Father was impossible. It made Arceus feel impossible, too. And Mother would only nod along. _

"_Don't let school teach you the wrong lessons. There are plenty of jobs for a smart woman like you. You could work in the Contest Hall. Or in a Center. But leave the battling to the men."_

_Contrary to her disappointment, Roxanne loved being denied by Father. Her insides boiled with a toxic rage every time. It fueled her. Every time he said no in the exact same way, she would go to school and learn new things. Become smarter, better. Come home, practice her manners, nod silently. Boil on the inside. Go to school, learn more, and more—_

_Roxanne was raised not to curse._

_So, at age seventeen, she said "fuck you" to Father the only way she knew how. _

_She applied to Rustboro University without her parents knowing. There were countless hoops to being admitted into the school, which was prestigious beyond belief. Roxanne passed every hurdle with flying colors. She was accepted to the school that denied all her other friends. Because, unlike them, Roxanne was fueled by spite. There was hardly room for ambition within her. _

_Contest hall?_

_Center clerk?_

_She hated that. _

_She was a goddamn trainer._

_Her parents, most obviously, didn't fund her trip to Rustboro. Not a penny to her name. Father knew how to say "fuck you" without words, too. But, it didn't deter her. She read the books at school. She knew the names. Erika. Sabrina. Claire. Candice. Lenora. Elesa. Korrina. Valerie. All trainers of worldwide esteem. None of them became the world leaders they were thanks to a check in the mail to a University from their parents. _

_The four years studying in Rustboro would be the best years of her life. For the first time, her ego would be allowed to inflate. She passed every exam with flying colors, and her grades were a spotless record. It was obvious that she was smarter than her peers, but she also worked much, much harder. She was a dual-major—Geology being the first, Pokémon Battling the second. Her notes, and her head, were filled with information on Fossils, on Z-crystals and Mega Stones, on the experimental pseudo-science of Wishing Stars. Quickly, she became an expert in them all. For her senior thesis, she disproved a popular religious craze through an extensive research process. The Helix Theory, an infamous Kantonian religion revolving around the worship of a Helix Fossil, crumbled apart years later from her paper. As a spiteful move, and to satiate her sense of poetic justice, she later admitted an Omanyte onto her official team. _

_ Roxanne rose the ranks and became a prominent figure, both in the scientific world and trainer circles. Because of this reputation, which remained entirely self-made, she would later become the first female Gym Leader of the Hoenn region, with many to follow. Some scholars note her admittance into the Pokémon League to be the beginning of a feminist movement, the first for Hoenn in decades._

_ It would be pleasant to consider Roxanne's story so simple. _

_But, this book is not closed. _

_ In her first year studying at Rustboro, she met a complication. _

_ He was outfitted in Kalos' finest designer, with hair to match his silver tongue. When he spoke, it was weaponry made words. No one could debate at his caliber. And he was a leader, not because he had an affinity to lead, but because people could accept following him. Everyone spoke of him like he was the world. Roxanne could not avoid the oncoming encounter. She would meet the storm made flesh that was Steven Stone within her first week at the University. _

_ She took him as arrogant at first. Mostly because she found it hard to accept anyone thought of themselves as above her. She spent her childhood lying in wait to blossom. Ever since, anyone who opposed her was proven beneath her eventually. So, when Steven unknowingly competed against her, in intellect and popularity alike, it meant war. And Roxanne believed that he would turn out the same as everyone before him._

_ Roxanne was never beaten in this game._

_ But this time, she wasn't even a player this time. _

_ The more her disdain was flung towards Steven, the more he reveled the attention. When he would score higher than her on exams, he was graceful in victory. When she outdid him on the next test, he would happily congratulate her. _

_ No one at the University really knew Steven. It was impossible to get close enough to hate him. He was a mystery in the classroom, an idol on-campus and a whisper off-campus. A paragon of charisma and a model student—nothing more. Which is why Roxanne never expected him to invite her to hang out, just the two of them._

_ "I read your first essay to this school."_

_ Those were the first words out of his mouth, legs crossed atop the barstool in the REC center, sitting across from Roxanne. _

_ "How?" she asked, suspicious. _

_ "I'm an assistant to the professor—well, informally," he explained, eyes trailing the horizon, distant, distracted. "He trusts me to help with the work. Your thesis on the social implications of Arceusim caught my attention. How much of that do you believe?"_

_ "Every word," she answered confidently. It was clear that she was being challenged, and she could never shy away. "It's an avenue for cross-regional tribalism—I said it clear as day in the paper. Is this really all you wanted to talk about…?" _

_ "And the part about legends?"_

_ "What about it?"_

_ "Well, do you stand by that part too?"_

_ "Until the day I die." She spoke sternly. "Legendary Pokémon are a harmful concept. Deifying creatures with non-scientific evidence to support a pointless mythos. Sinnoh has built itself a hefty throne built on corpses—all in Arceus' name. Legends kill."_

_ "I disagree."_

_ Roxanne was beside herself. She strung sentences together so carefully, but he could retort her with simple, short responses. He didn't even act like he was listening. _

_ But, somehow, it still felt like she was losing. _

_ "What's a legend?" Steven pointed upward. It was the first sign of a spark in his eyes Roxanne could notice. "A legacy, maybe. A Pokémon's legend lives on long after it's extinct. A Pokémon isn't really dead until people forget it existed to begin with. Stick with me, Roxy—"_

_ It was the first time anyone had called her that. And he just kept going like he didn't change everything for her. _

_ "Are people any different? Aren't we all trying our best out here, just hoping that we'll be remembered fondly? That's what I want. To be remembered as a legend!"_

_ After that, the two argued emptily about theology the rest of their night out. Steven's glow vanished the moment she responded. All she could remember from their talk was that glow. They met with each other countless times after. But it always felt like Steven could never focus on the same thing for longer than a second. He was ambitious to a fault, pastel eyes always looking right past her. _

_Since he was so distant, it made Roxanne feel lesser. It reminded her of Father. And the toxic rage consumed her. She spent those four years doing everything she could to prove herself to Steven. For her, it was all-consuming. _

_And indescribably exhilarating. _

_ At every opportunity, she was pulled out of her comfort zone. She excelled beyond what she thought possible, working harder than she ever planned to. All to show Steven that she wasn't wrong. It was competition. Rivalry. Romance. Steven loved as strongly as he led. Little by little, Roxanne was worn down. It transcended beyond a pair of intellectuals passing snide quips each other's way. He was everything she hated, packaged as love. He knew her nature, leveraged it against her, led her towards the cliffs she tried to avoid all her life._

_ Her Arceus. _

_ All four years, Roxanne was the number-one student of Rustboro University. Her grades were consistently better than Steven Stone's. _

_ But, she never once defeated him in a Pokémon battle. _

_ They traveled together upon graduating. The competition, however unhealthy it was, seemed to fuel them both. Roxanne was driven to exhaustion, day by day, trying to keep up with Steven. Working herself to death, she believed it was an investment, just like it always was. She would work hard now so that she could lead a comfortable life later. The more effort she put in, the higher esteem she would earn. It was giving her all the attention she could ever want. Six badges in, she was scouted by the Pokémon League. _

_ Upon her sixth badge, Steven Stone already had all eight. _

_ She scurried her way to the final checkpoint to witness him become Champion. _

_ It was a far-off dream, but it was everything Steven wanted. She could listen to him for a lifetime if he was talking about becoming the Champion of Hoenn. Roxanne believed it was his version of becoming a 'legend'. Whenever he talked about usurping the reigning Champion, Juan, it was like it was a foregone conclusion in his mind._

_ And, that was the tragic difference between the pair. _

_ Roxanne was capable, but realistic. To Steven, that made her small. _

_ At the height of his success, he defeated the Champion of the Hoenn Region, on a worldwide stage. The media attention it received sent ripples across the world's vast oceans. At age twenty, he was the youngest Champion ever crowned. Roxanne was there to watch it. It was a high she never felt before—and, she was grateful beyond words that she was able to meet someone so incredible in her life. Since she didn't believe in Arceus, she had no idea who or what she was grateful towards. _

_ She caught him striding back from the League challenge, moments before the crowds could swarm him. She had to be first. He was her world. He did everything he set out to do, and she lived through his success. _

_ "That was amazing, Steven—" she told him, short on breath. "I don't believe it—"_

_ "I know you can't."_

_ With a smile, he put a hand on her shoulder. _

_ "And, that's why we're done."_

_ He walked away, through the sea of cheers and adoration._

_ Steven told me that story one night, when we were travelling across Hoenn together. To this day, it still perplexes me. He isn't the kind of man to talk about unnecessary things. But, he's never mentioned Roxanne to me before that fireside chat. _

_ It taught me one thing. Hoenn is built on lies. _

_ Hoenn will remember Roxanne as self-made. As the woman who came through and changed everything with her own hands. They aren't wrong. She's smart, beautiful, and a better trainer than most could hope to be. But her legacy is built on half-truths. She was a woman who couldn't believe in anything, not even in the man she loved. _

_ She was another person on the long list of those who were cursed by encountering the living hazard that is Steven Stone. _

_ Perhaps he told me that tale to teach me that I'm not like her. That I won't be chewed up and spit out by the time this is all done. I'm not convinced. I think, in every moment I've spent with him, he could be plotting my success, or my demise. Because, when he tells me these stories, I don't know who the hero is supposed to be. _

_Is this the legend of Steven, or the tragedy of Roxanne? _

_ I suppose it depends on what you believe in._

* * *

It would align with Jade's luck that she attempted to challenge Roxanne on the busiest week of the semester for the young Gym Leader.

The week before exams was when Rustboro University required the most from her. In order to be available for the trainers under her wing at the end of the school year, it entailed a constant on-campus presence. There were two nights that she ended up sleeping in her office out of necessity. While she would never admit it, Roxanne was stressed, and it affected the way she reacted to Jade's haphazard challenge.

However, it presented itself with a unique opportunity, too. For her students, they required a final exam beyond a written test. She needed a way to test them as trainers, to see if they could leave the University as capable Pokémon masters. So—what better way to test them than have them accept Jade's challenge for the month? Roxanne thought it was a stroke of brilliance. The list of challengers she would have to take on during break was extensive; she could catch up on her backlogged duties without having to worry about her students _or _Jade. Two birds with one stone.

It had been eight days since she issued the challenge to Jade, and Roxanne was able to come home having survived the intense week. She passed through the front door, rare stones in cases on each side of the entryway, hung in plaques. It was the only piece of school she allowed in her home; the rest stayed in her office, out of mind. With a sigh, she envisioned being able to sleep in her own bed—a luxury she couldn't afford yesterday. But, it still felt like a far-off dream.

Because, Professor Roxanne punched out for the day. Gym Leader Roxanne was only just getting started.

She decided it wasn't worth changing into sleepwear yet, since it was unclear if their meeting would include a video call. Although it had been planned for weeks, that only gave her more time to dread it. For as much as the Pokémon League asked of its Gym Leaders, it left almost every decision in their hands. In their dissident, arrogant hands.

Roxanne could afford a single sigh, moments before the call started up.

With a flash of her screen, it was no surprise to see only four members present.

Herself, the Gym Leader of Rustboro City, head of the Department of Education.

Brawly, Leader of Dewford Town, head of the Department of Recreational Services.

Winona, Leader of Fortree City, head of the Department of Transportation.

Norman, Leader of Petalburg City, head of the Department of Defense.

"What a joke," Brawly was the first to scoff behind his screen. "The League plans this meeting a month out, and half the Leaders are still absent. This is why Sinnoh is leaps and bounds ahead of us on everything."

"Yes, well, I'll be representing the Leaders of Lavaridge and Mossdeep today," Winona interjected, certain that she would need to if they wanted to extinguish Brawly's complaints. "I sent them both on assignments."

"Speaking of which," Norman added. "How are the new batch of Gym Leaders? Are those kids giving you too much trouble, having to show them the ropes?"

"Their progress is astounding," she answered after a moment of pensive silence. "Flannery has the work ethic and the aptitude of a Leader already. She's obsessed with the superfluous details—how to compose herself in her Gym, the reward she offers to successful trainers… it shows how much she's mastered the difficult part already. The only missing piece of the puzzle is confidence."

"And the twins?"

"Even more impressive. Despite being so young, they've picked it up like second nature. I was skeptic, given how stubborn they were about bending the rules. But they've shown me that Double Battles have a real future in Hoenn. It's no exaggeration to assume that the next generation of trainers will be the best batch yet."

Roxanne was grateful the call ended up being voice-only; she could afford a smirk. Hearing the other Gym Leaders appraise the up-and-comers reminded her of the way people used to talk about _her _future. It also reminded her of the conversations people had—the talk about Roxanne being the only woman on that platform. Winona came along quickly after. And, in the same year, there were two others. Glimpsing at her ego, she would take pride in the legacy she earned only in small doses.

When she would briefly forget how outdone she was.

"And what about you, Roxanne?"

The conversation shifted to her, easing her out of the distractions flooding her mind. With a hasty adjustment, her posture fixed in her chair.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You're raising up the next generation in your own way, aren't you?" Winona asked, the faintest hint of reverence in her remark. "How is juggling school and League duties?"

"Oh, about as laborious as it sounds," Roxanne muttered with a huff. "It's a lot more difficult to find talent than to cultivate it. And the University casts such a wide net, some days it feels like the lessons are endless."

The Leader wasn't sure if she was in relatable company. Norman and Brawly were entirely self-taught trainers. Winona became a Leader through the entertainment industry. They all spoke a universal language, though—exhaustion. Some days, Hoenn felt like a massive boat that they were entrusted with keeping safe. One day off, and chaos would spread through the routes, and the region would sink. It wasn't always like that for Hoenn's Gym Leaders. But, it made them enjoy the distractions.

"Speaking of the next generation…" Roxanne pressed the conversation, muse to her voice. "Norman, I had the luxury of meeting your daughter the other day."

She heard radio silence on the other end of the call. The remark was meant to force a reaction from the Petalburg Leader, something Roxanne could gauge. Of all the League members she'd met, Norman was the most stoic and strange. He lacked the common charisma found in most Leaders. And, he was so secretive that none of the other Leaders even knew he had a daughter until she was out in the world as a trainer.

"Have you?" He answered, no hint of emotion in his voice.

"Oh, have I."

"Tell me," he pressed, the intention in his question being the first sign of evidence that he was interested in the topic. "You're astute. What did you think of Jade?"

She leaned back in her chair, mulling over the answer.

"Well, truthfully, she's strange. In the exact way you are, in fact. A dull exterior hiding a fire somewhere underneath. I wouldn't be surprised to hear she collects a fair share of Badges in the next few years. She's quick on the uptake."

"And?" he nearly interrupted with the question. "Did you give her a reason to keep up her Gym Challenge, like I asked you to?"

A faint, cordial laugh came from Roxanne. She was pleased to finally solve the equation that was Norman. To finally find something he cared about, after ruminating the mystery so incessantly in the past.

"If you're asking if I was horrible to her, the answer is yes." She answered finally. "We'll see what she makes of the provocation, I suppose."

"Alright. That's enough shooting the shit."

Brawly's interjection silenced the call—though Roxanne's scoff rang in her room the moment she muted herself. Of the group present, she detested him the most. They shared almost nothing in common, Brawly being the boorish, uncouth antithesis to the calculating, collected persona Roxanne exuded. It was frustrating, because the public agreed with her for the wrong reasons. They hated Brawly because he wasn't from Hoenn; she didn't care where he came from, so long as he was an asshole.

"The League wants solutions," he continued. "Whether or not we can provide them. The sooner we decide this region is a lost cause, the sooner we can end this call and go to sleep. There are three orders of business in the document the League sent us last week. Which one should we tackle first?"

"The energy crisis," Roxanne promptly answered, unmuting herself.

"Right." Brawly sighed. "The impossible task. Might as well knock that one out first."

"We've been writing this problem off for months…" Winona remarked with concern. "People are starting to get upset that we aren't doing anything about it. I saw protests in Slateport on the news yesterday."

"I don't know what they expect," Roxanne said, leaned against her desk. "We're not legislators. Hoenn's grids can't power the region, and the demand is only getting higher. The bottom line is, we aren't equipped to be a self-sustaining region anymore."

"Well, if we can't do anything about it, can't we find someone who can?" Winona pressed the issue. "We may not be legislators, but we have pull. Sinnoh's found some success with wind energy. And I hear Marco Cosmos is making waves in Galar by—"

"Winona. Bury the issue." Brawly's demand was stern, but it was driven by exhaustion with the topic. "There's nothing we can do."

"Why…? There are so many other options out there!"

"It's out of our hands. The entire region is fueled by the old grids, and we can't get rid of them. Not while Mauville Industries is running them. The second we start looking for another way to keep Hoenn running, they'll shut the region's lights off."

"Attack the issue at its core," Roxanne hissed quietly. "The reason Hoenn is headed towards its doomsday is thanks to that greedy pig Wattson.'

The remark warranted a palpable tension, that could be felt even through the voice channel. It had always been an unspoken topic between the Gym Leaders—the belief that Wattson was abusing his power. But, it came to light in his absence.

"Show some respect," Brawly demanded on reaction. "Wattson is from the original generation of Gym Leaders. The longest-active member in Hoenn. He's the reason the region has electricity in the first place."

"Pedigree makes for poor patchwork," she responded with a spiteful quip of her own. "If his methods are outdated, he's causing more harm than good for Hoenn. His grids aren't cutting it, and he's the only one that wins if they keep up and running. The rest of us lose."

"Alright, that's enough." Norman demanded, to her surprise. "Policing the region is my domain—if Wattson was doing anything illegal, I would stop him. Right now, accusing him of any wrongdoing would only throw Hoenn into further chaos."

With an exhale, Roxanne leaned back in her seat. The League was impossible to deal with at times. She thought back to all the foreign Gyms she idolized as a kid, wondering if they had as much trouble discussing regional affairs in her position. The way she saw it, Hoenn's Leaders existed in three categories. The children too young to change anything yet. The veterans too old to let anything change. And the four in this call, stuck somewhere in limbo, unable to decide if the past or future would save their home.

"Let's shift to the second topic, shall we?" Roxanne demanded. "Let's talk about people who _are _breaking the law. Team Aqua."

"Of course," Norman conceded. "A few of their kind have slithered their way into Petalburg. They're causing quite a ruckus on our side of the region."

"These are the cultists you warned the League about last meeting, right?" Winona asked. "I haven't dealt with a single case out east yet. Should we be worried about their influence spreading my way, policeman?"

"Well, hard to say…" Norman answered, responding to how he was addressed awkwardly. "Hoenn's had its fair share of nutcase cults in the past. They tend to stay localized and don't last long under the League's heavy boot."

"These ones are different," Roxanne remarked. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Unfortunately."

"How so?" Winona questioned. "What about them?"

"They aren't intent on hiding in the shadows, for one," Norman assessed. His analysis only made him sound more like an officer to the other Leaders listening. "They're setting up shop in tourist traps. Creating crime in public places like they're… evangelizing. Worse yet, it's working. It's beyond me how they keep accruing members."

"You'd be surprised what people are willing to believe in Hoenn," Roxanne remarked, friction with her family fresh in her mind.

"I'm sure. Either way, it's hard to give an update on Team Aqua for now. Whoever is leading them isn't showing their face. And, although their numbers are growing, they don't seem to be spreading around the region yet. I'd say, in the coming months, they will either die out, or start planning something big."

"The League won't appreciate your patience," Brawly intruded on Norman's assessment crassly. "They wanted Team Aqua shut down before the public found out about them. We're well beyond that point. I understand you were handed an impossible task, but it's just—"

"Just what?"

The challenge to Brawly sparked an intrigue in Roxanne. It didn't seem like any of the other Gym Leaders held any power over him—until Norman stuck up for himself. The typically soft-spoken father could be imposing when he wanted to. With a moment's hesitation, Brawly dropped the issue.

"Nothing." He said dully. "We have bigger fish to fry."

"That's right," Winona hummed. "I've been waiting to talk about this."

"Third order of business," Brawly continued the conversation. "And the most important by far. If we come to the League with a solution to this, they let us off the hook with the other two this time around. Let's get on with it. The disappearance of Steven Stone."

Roxanne felt a knot form in her throat. Even though no one could see her, she sat stoically in her chair, refusing to release her poker face. The room suddenly felt cold. Her hands tightened around each other. Unable to do much else, she listened.

"The most dangerous man in all of Hoenn," Brawly added. "Norman, you could catch _ten _leaders of Team Aqua and they wouldn't be worth _half _of Mr. Stone's capture."

"You overestimate him. So does the League." Norman assessed. "A single man disappears, and the world suddenly revolves around him. There are real criminals out there causing actual damage. They want me out there playing a glorified game of hide-and-seek with Steven—what about the cults popping up in Hoenn?"

"You're the one that doesn't seem to understand what that single man is capable of," Brawly quipped with a toxic drip to his tone.

"Do you think maybe you're the one _under_estimating him, Norman?" Winona asked. "Steven became Champion in only a few months. He was about as close to a rockstar as a trainer could get. His Pokémon were all absurdly strong. His record was—"

"You seem to be a fan of his exploits," Norman muttered bluntly.

"Well, I _was_…" Winona answered with an audible shrug. "Before he was a criminal, and all that."

"He's more than a criminal," Brawly pressed the issue. "He took Hoenn by storm out of _nowhere_. Made worldwide headlines—only to resign from being Champion after a _day_. A day! He took all the region's secrets and made out like a bandit!"

"Maybe if Hoenn didn't have such juicy secrets, we wouldn't be in this mess…"

"Keep in your lane, Norman!" Brawly insisted with increasing aggression, only furthering Roxanne's hatred of him. "If you really care about keeping this region safe, you'll put everything you can into finding Steven Stone. If he somehow manages to _flee _Hoenn under our noses—it'll end in disaster!"

"Calm down," Norman insisted. "He has _not _escaped Hoenn. I can promise you that. Our region has the best navy in the entire world, led by the Champion himself. _No one_ leaves without the League knowing. So it's only a matter of time until I find him somewhere inland. There are so few places to hide."

"That's what we should be reporting to the League," Winona said, with some unwarranted enthusiasm. "He hasn't escaped. I can _promise _you he won't be safe anywhere near Fortree."

"Well… it isn't much, but it's what we could manage with only half the Leaders showing up. From here, I'll report to the League on our decision to—"

With a flutter of her fingers across the keyboard, Roxanne left the call before it could end definitively. She hadn't breathed since they started talking about Steven, and she gasped for air once her desktop was empty again. She paced, more anxious than weary. Suddenly, the week seemed like nothing. Nails dug into her palms.

Usually, it was so easy for her to think. Especially when she was angry or upset. It was how she managed to escape from her family and pursue her dreams in the first place. But her thoughts hiccupped, her brain stuttered. It was panic. She sat herself at the edge of her bed, thinking stillness would be the solution. But her muscles were tightened, from shoulders to ankles. Their words rung in her ears.

_Dangerous_.

No kidding.

Thought failed her, but action didn't. Before she could advise herself against it, her PokéNav was in her hand. Up to her ear. Ringing. She wasn't sure what she would say, but something needed to happen. Ringing. Her unhealthy obsession hadn't left her, and the feeling of inferiority resurfaced. Ringing.

No answer. But, a chance for a message.

"Steven? It's Roxy."

There was silence, and for the briefest instant she expected to hear a voice respond. Of course there wasn't; she was leaving a voicemail.

"No one's heard from you in a few months," she started, tapping her finger beside her methodically, keeping herself focused. "And, I just wanted to try to reach you again. To let you know—whatever reason you had to do what you did, I could understand it."

A pause.

"I thought you'd want to know. The League is looking for you, and they hate you for what you did. I don't."

Another pause.

"I could cover for you. I could lead them down the wrong trails, make them consider the wrong possibilities. I could do a lot to help you. But, to do that, I need to be in on your plan. Whatever you're trying to do. I'd need to know why you fell off the map and made all these people so angry."

A final pause.

"Good talk."

She hung up, more shaken than before she called the empty void. Before she could get caught up in her thoughts, a ring rattled her out of her head. The doorbell. There was a desperate smile. Whoever it was, they offered a distraction. And perfect timing.

Roxanne strode towards the door, thankful to still be in teacherly apparel. Expecting a student needing last-minute advice, or another townsfolk thanking her for her contribution to the University, she answered the door with the most neutral expression she could manage in her rattled state.

The look faded to surprise when she saw Norman's daughter standing there.

She appeared ragged, arm practically slung on the side of the doorway. Her exhaustion was apparent, unlike Roxanne's which was hidden as best as possible. The glare in the young girl's eyes was familiar, the same she had pasted onto her face eight days ago in the classroom.

"Jade," Roxanne remarked in recognition. "How did you find my home…?"

"Same way I found you the first time. Asked lots of questions."

Something about Jade's bluntness left an impact on Roxanne—it was similar to Norman's, but it was much younger. Less premeditated and conniving. She said what was on her mind, and it was the window into her thoughts.

"I'll be brief," she told the Gym Leader, already looking like she was ready to leave. "I want to challenge you to a battle tomorrow morning."

"A battle?" Roxanne's brow raised, leaning to her old teacher habits. "Did you forget the conditions I set already? If you want to challenge me, you need to defeat my eight students by the end of the—"

"I beat them already."

The Leader's eyes rose, only to discover that what the trainer said was far from a joke. In the past eight days, while Roxanne slaved away at the University, distracted by the world around her, Jade snooped around under her guise, challenging her students. _Beating _her students. The girl who didn't know about type matchups was defeating graduates-to-be. She accomplished in a little over a week what was meant to take a month.

And she was already walking back towards the Center.

"Tomorrow morning?" Jade asked again.

Roxanne thought back to Winona's offhand remark.

_The next generation of trainers will be the best batch yet. _

"Tomorrow morning," she assured her.


	8. Part Seven: The Gym

**Chapter Seven: The Gym**

* * *

_Current Team: _

_Willow the Treecko (male) Lv. 14_

_Geisha the Cascoon (female) Lv. 9_

_Spike the Poochyena (female) Lv. 14_

_Goonie the Zigzagoon (male) Lv. 14_

_Apache the Tailow (male) Lv. 14_

* * *

I had to admit. I felt pretty cool calling out Roxanne at her own house. But, the truth of the matter was, I had a lengthy conversation with my Pokémon at the Center before I did anything that bold.

So, any sane person would ask—_Jade, how in the world did you do a month's worth of work in eight days_? And, the answer was pretty simple. That month deadline was assuming I slept like a normal human being. If I didn't sleep (which was the case), that practically doubled the time I could afford studying and preparing. So technically, it was like _sixteen_ days. Still earlier than she expected. That, I had to thank my Pokémon for.

It would have been all too easy to forget everything I read with the absence of sleep. Fortunately, I didn't have to remember it all alone. We spread out information amongst the six of us. The process became streamlined with time. For example, we learned that Spike was a dark-type Pokémon. We learned she was effective against psychic-types—immune to their attacks, even. We learned she was weak to fairy, bug, and fighting-types. I had her hold on to that information herself, before moving on to information specific to Goonie, then to Apache. Etcetera.

We studied for four days straight before I felt confident enough to challenge the first of Roxanne's students. Because, I was equipped with two useful pieces of information.

One: Willow was a grass-type Pokémon. Grass is one of rock's glaring weaknesses.

Two: somewhere along on our journey, Willow learned a new move.

He kept it a secret. Or, more accurately, he didn't think it was important to share—he had been using it all along, without me noticing. Willow finally told me about it once I learned about type matchups. I felt like he was testing me in his own way; he offered information only when he could tell I was looking for it.

The important thing is that this new move made it really, really easy to defeat Roxanne's students.

Like, two days easy.

I spent the two days after cramming.

Finally, I mustered the confidence to challenge Roxanne, having fulfilled her conditions. Truthfully, I was every bit nervous as I was confident. I was definitely smarter about training Pokémon than I was before. But that also meant I was aware of risks I had no idea existed until I read about them.

I summoned my entire team to a meeting in the room we were renting out in Rustboro's Center. The critters were lined up like soldiers, and I adored the sight. They were excited to face the Gym Leader. I was so glad I wasn't the only one. But, it was my job to warn them of the dangers ahead.

"We're fighting Roxanne tomorrow," I started, arms folded behind my back. "I think we're plenty ready, and I don't think I could keep this schedule up for another day. But first, I have to break some bad news."

I saw the team exchange some looks, the ranks still silent.

"Roxanne is supposedly a master of rock-type Pokémon," I said. "In our research, I came across a startling discovery—all of you suck against rock-types."

In my pace, I stopped to meet my gaze with Willow, my Treecko, yellow eyes focused ahead of him, nowhere near me.

"All of you except for Willow, that is." I continued. "To apply for this challenge, I have to register three Pokémon against three of Roxanne's Pokémon. But, the honest truth is, I'll only be using Willow in this fight."

"_Let me get this straight, Jade,_" Spike interjected apprehensively. "_You're going to challenge THREE of this woman's Pokémon with only ONE of us on the field?_"

"Essentially, yes." I nodded. "It sounds bad on paper. But, after watching Willow in action, I'm confident that we could beat her all on our own."

"_You COULD beat her, or you WILL?_"

Goonie asked the pressing question.

"_I've seen plenty of Gym Challenges in Petalburg,_" he added. "_They don't pull punches. They'll kill a trainer's Pokémon if it means defending their Gym. It won't be like fighting the trainers on-route. Their livelihood is at stake._"

They were right to be worried. But, this time, I decided to share the pressure. I turned my attention towards Willow, who was still acting distant.

"Willow has already agreed to take this Gym on alone," I told them. "But, I wanted him to accept the responsibility in front of everyone to make it official."

To no surprise, the news I broke was met with mixed reaction from my party. They exchanged glances of worry and confusion amidst one another. But, with my proclamation, their eyes all eventually turned towards Willow, expecting a response from him. He kept silent, and I felt an anxious aggression swell within me. Leaning over the bed, I got in his face, speaking to him in a whisper they could all hear.

"You insisted that we go about things this way," I told him. "You assume the risk, and you die if you fail. If that happens, I'll surrender so no one else has to die needlessly. But, none of this happens unless you're okay with it."

"_I won't die._"

His answer was quiet and simple. But, the arrogance in his voice was as clear as ever, defusing the tension that built up between us all. He began to walk away from the group, turning himself towards everyone with folded arms.

"_Listen,_" he began. "_There's no nice way to say this. I plan on outliving you all. And that includes you, kid. So, if you expect me to be a hero out there, or try to sacrifice myself for the greater good or whatever—forget it. I just want to win. That's all._"

With that, I conceded. It wasn't exactly what I wanted from him, but he agreed to fight on his own terms. If he really planned to outlive me, I could only hope tomorrow would go all according to Willow's plan.

* * *

The inside of the stadium was far from what I expected. Each wall was painted in stripes, colored like underground layers. They were textured like stone and gravel-like to the touch. I approached from the main entrance, entering a room that felt as vast as all of Littleroot. An expanse of flat concrete, leading to a rocky field—the battlegrounds. It was a flat space, aside from several rocky pillars sticking up from the ground, pointed like stalagmites, peaks obscuring patches of the arena horizon.

Though the bleachers were wide to match the size of the stadium, the spectators were spotty at best. It made sense, considering it was an impromptu Minor League challenge; but it was enough to give me stage fright, considering I didn't expect anyone to be watching in the first place. Across from me, at a distance which felt hundreds of feet away, Roxanne stood at the edge of the stage, before a wall adorned with fossils. Two trails of bones, each forming a figure with hooked arms and dome-like heads. Whatever they were, I was hoping I wouldn't have to square off against a _living _one in a few moments.

"Well?" I heard the call across the way from the Gym Leader. "I'm waiting to hear what you think of our facility, Jade. Is your first Gym Challenge everything you expected it to be?"

"Dunno," I shouted back. "It depends what this next part ends up being like."

"Always full of surprises, aren't you?" she said. "From your words to your actions. Making quick work of my students—I'm not sure if I should be failing them, or praising you. We'll see if you were able to equip yourself with the proper knowledge."

"The book was handy," I admitted. "If I beat you, I hope you don't regret giving me the chance to study."

"_If _you beat me."

I watched her raise a Pokéball up beside her shoulder, between two fingers. In my periphery, I was momentarily distracted by the flash of a screen emerging on the right wall. It was organized like a scoreboard in a sports arena, with several statistics I couldn't wrap my head around. The Gym Leader's face was on one side, an empty avatar that was meant to be me on the other. Three slots for Pokémon were by each of our icons.

"Like I tell my students, knowledge is useful," she added, Pokéball lobbing out onto the battlefield. "But, sometimes, there's no amount of knowledge that can save you from an impossible situation."

Reaching for the Pokéball at my hip, I wouldn't allow myself to meet the Leader's toss without a final hiccup in the routine.

"Last chance to back out, Willow," I said.

"_Let me out of this ball or I'm busting out myself,_" he growled.

Well, at least he was ready.

With Willow on the battlefield, I was able to fully focus on the match at hand. Across the way, I saw Roxanne's Pokémon of choice—a round, earthen creature with a jagged exterior, arms protruding out the sides of its head. A Geodude. Though I was still tense, there was a subconscious piece of me that felt a brief relief. We faced several Geodude this week; it seemed to be the students' Pokémon of choice. I was certain Roxanne's would have a few tricks up its sleeve, but it was familiar territory.

To my right, I saw the screen update our Pokémon. The first slot was filled out on both sides. The only slot I would use. There was so much buildup to the fight—or perhaps it was imaginary from the start. Either way, I was thrown off when it began so unceremoniously, Roxanne making the first move and catching my hesitation.

"Rollout."

I watched the Geodude lift itself by both its arms. And, with a flick of its wrists, flipped its front side underneath itself, using the momentum to sweep itself forward across the ground, over and over again. It was like watching a tire spin after pressing the gas pedal to the floor, an abhorrent screech sounding in accompaniment. As the Pokémon spun in place, building up its speed, it began to dig a trench into the stone beneath it; I assumed it was an intimidation tactic.

"Willow—" I tried to call to him in instruction.

"_I'll handle it,_" he interrupted me. My Treecko was the only member of the team that refused my input. "_I'm letting it come to me first._"

With both its arms, the spinning Geodude released itself out of the divot, screeching towards Willow with a velocity I wasn't expecting. At first, its axis wavered, swerving from side to side across the arena before charging in a rotating beeline towards my partner. I'm no speed detector, but it must have been breaking a hundred kilometers per hour easily. Still, Willow remained motionless in the center of the ring, letting the opposing Pokémon soar towards him across the ground, dust particles billowing behind it in sparks. With mere meters separating the two, I watched his muscles tense from their relaxed state, leaping to the left out of trajectory as the Geodude skated forward.

While the Geodude's attack was impossibly fast, Willow was even quicker in reaction. Missing its mark, the rock-type was forced to proceed forward in its spin. It crashed into one of the stone slabs sticking out of the arena. From my vantage, I could see a cloud of dust billow out from the base of the rock, standing taller and wider than a person. The stone shifted from the impact.

All I could think about was how an attack like that would turn a person to paste.

Light on his toes through the garden of stones, I watched Willow bounce with an anticipatory agility, as the Geodude whipped its body around, revving up its spin a second time, the screeching ringing in my ears. I spoke, and the only one that could heed my words through all the noise was my Pokémon.

"It's moving too quickly to touch," I tried advising him again. "You might not be able to land your move safely. We should rethink—"

"_I can land it,_" he assured me sternly. "_I'm getting the hang of this. Once it collides with another rock, I'm going for it._"

The rock-on-rock screeching reached its apex before I could respond; the Geodude's attack was primed, and it rolled towards its target once again. Willow stood in place against the approach, motionless, like he was _trying _to give me a spike in anxiety. It was clear that my Treecko was looking for an opening. He wouldn't find one while the Geodude was still spinning. Since I was watching the match from a different angle, I could piece together what he was looking for. Once the Geodude crashed into something, its momentum was halted completely. That was the opening Willow was looking for to get close enough to—

In a green blur, Willow whipped himself out of the way of the second approach, this time to the right, giving himself ample space from the attack's trajectory.

It was hard to hear over the battle's noise, but I swear I heard Roxanne give the command.

"Now!"

My eyes zeroed in on the spinning Geodude, its arms propped out on both sides to avoid halting its momentum. I noticed the faintest difference; its elbows bent. But, before I could react with a warning to my Pokémon, it already lodged its left arm into the ground beneath it.

It pushed its rolling body off its course, directly into Willow. The damn thing was _steering _itself at its insane speed.

I cursed being able to hear my Pokémon's voice in that moment. I heard Willow's air escape his lungs, chest tightening from the sudden, unexpected impact as the pair barreled into another of the stone pillars, crashing into a burst of dust, rock debris flying across the battlefield as I stood with a wide-eyed disbelief.

"Willow!"

Now that the battle had grown quiet, I could hear Roxanne clearly, too.

"Pokémon of the same species learn the same moves," she told me; I was only barely able to listen, my worry superseding my other senses. "A trainer's job is to teach their Pokémon to use those moves in ways people have never seen before. I've practiced this procedure with this Geodude extensively—"

Her lecture was silenced suddenly. Because, just like me, she couldn't believe what was visible as the dust was clearing.

A crater was formed from the impact the Geodude created, cracks running their way up the stone. But, the only figure left standing after their collision was Willow. He appeared agitated and rattled—but more importantly, he was completely unharmed. Spotless.

"_Will you quit screaming in my ear?!_" He shouted back at me. "_This would be a breeze if you weren't barking orders from the backseat!_"

I allowed myself to breathe. He used the move just in time.

While I let relief wash over me, Roxanne appeared no less perplexed with her Geodude strewn across the ground, unconscious. It was the first time I ever saw the Gym Leader befuddled. The gears were turning in her mind, and the questions were painted across her face. She _knew _the attack struck Willow. And she was wondering how the hell he walked away from it without a scratch on him.

After missing a beat, she called back her Geodude into its Pokéball. She released a second Geodude with a precaution, barely audible from afar:

"Keep your distance. I need to see what happened."

The Geodude's arms flailed downward in response, disrupting the earth beneath it. With the strength of its arms, the Pokémon was able to render chunks of the flooring to rocks, fragmented off the ground from the fists.

"Rock Throw."

Its arms windmilled, arcing the chunks of stone across the air; a whooping noise was audible across the arena with the speed it was arcing its arms. This time, the attacks were far less predictable, and I watched Willow scurry for cover hastily as the rocks crashed around the stone pillars all around him. The rocks soared faster than baseballs tossed by pro pitchers, scattering across the hard ground into shards stabbing in every direction like firecrackers. The attacks kept being catapulted towards Willow like a well-oiled machine.

"_Dammit!_" I heard Willow huff under his breath, hunched behind the stone wall.

My attention was on Roxanne, who seemed intent on letting her Pokémon keep back. Since approaching failed for her the first time, she was trying to goad Willow into making the next move. The focus in her red eyes was palpable across the way. She was collecting data coldly, calmly, not allowing herself to blink for even a moment. Willow hit her Pokémon with something she wasn't able to see—no matter what, she wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Are you ready for a tip yet?" I offered my Pokémon, taking the effort to sound more subdued in his ear.

"_Not if it's coming from you,_" he replied, unable to shoot a scowl my direction as debris pelted his surroundings. "_Let me think for myself. That thing is intent on hanging back, using cowardly tactics. There's no way to reach it and come out unscathed…_"

"So? You just solved your own problem," I hummed at him. "All you have to do is reach it. Doesn't matter if it lands a hit or two, right?"

This time, Willow afforded a scowl at me. I gave him the answer before he could arrive there himself.

Unable to find a break between attacks, Willow charged out from cover, running his top speed towards the opposing Geodude. The defending Pokémon checked his approach with several rocks flung towards my Treecko. A few landed their mark, blasting his body and causing him to falter his approach, skidding back into a sprint each time. I winced with every landed hit. All he needed to do was a few more meters.

Since the Geodude was so intent on hanging back, it hadn't prepared a method of escape by the time Willow was danger-close. He leapt onto the rocky creature, holding a hand out onto its head with both feet pressed into the crux of its arms. The Geodude writhed, trying everything it could to fling him off its body. But, it was overtaken by a sudden green glow, and I watched Roxanne lean forward with an intense stare. Slowly, her Pokémon ceased resisting, as Willow's bruised body began to cure itself of its wounds, damage washing off of him as the Gym Leader's second Pokémon fainted to the floor.

A short, stifled laugh escaped Roxanne. Like she was ridiculing herself.

"Of course," she said. "Your Pokémon knows Absorb. Of course it does."

There was no keeping it a secret the second time—I knew Willow had to show off his trick if we wanted to make it through this. We learned, through our battles with Roxanne's students, that Willow's new move was able to heal his wounds by siphoning energy from the Pokémon he was using it against. The biggest drawback being that Willow had to lay his hands on them to do it. After a few test runs against wild Pokémon, I learned that the move was more effective on rock-types than the average creature.

Meaning, Willow had a surefire way to succeed against the Gym Leader.

Her own Pokémon would fuelhis attacks.

"I guess the secret's out in the open now," I remarked to Willow, who was returning back to the center of the arena. Two of Roxanne's slots were darkened out on the screen beside us, and I watched the Gym Leader glance at it with a subtle surge of frustration.

"I _hate _losing," she muttered.

At first, the remark lightened my mood. I assumed she said it because she already admitted defeat. But, the question popped into my head. Did she say that because she decided that she wasn't going to lose?

"Nosepass."

She summoned a Pokémon I had never seen before. Not in battles, not on television, not in books. It planted itself firmly on the ground in front of her, at about hip-height. Its rocky skin was sleeker than Geodude, hardened like a blue metal. It housed a nose-like protrusion out of the font of its face, bright red before a sturdy stone body.

"This is my ace for the Minor League," she said, talking to me this time. "It's a rare Pokémon capable of magnetizing stone."

I was wary of the unknown elements this Pokémon could possess, so I held off on Willow making the first move. It was clear, through my Treecko's caution, that he had never seen this Pokémon before, either. He kept himself center-stage, between the pillars, in case the Nosepass decided to launch any more rocks his way.

"Jade," Roxanne said. "I've already decided that I like you. So I'm going to give you one final warning. I'm about to get a bit rough. You should surrender now if you aren't prepared to own the result of the rest of this battle."

I nearly scoffed at the offer.

"After I got this far? No chance," I answered. "If I quit now, it'll just be harder to beat you the second time."

There was a glimmer of melancholy across the Gym Leader's face, as she held up a snap to give the order to her Pokémon. Something sunk in my chest with her final remark.

"It's a shame," she said. "You didn't take me up on my offer. And, you didn't move your Treecko after I clearly warned you of what it was capable of. Rock Tomb."

I understood, only it was too late.

The stone pillars.

Nosepass' narrowed eyes glowed a bright blue, as there was a faint rumble surging through the arena. Willow's wariness wouldn't be enough to save him from the oncoming attack. His focus was entirely on the rocks surrounding the Leader's Pokémon, wondering what part of the arena it was about to control.

The stone pillars.

The thought struck my mind a second time, the rock walls encircling Willow beginning to shift through the arena, spiraling closer all around him. He was too late in noticing their approach.

The stone—

With a deafening _thud_, the pillars crashed into Willow from all sides, causing the stadium to shake, rattling me to the core. Cracks formed across the entire field, and dust billowed to the ceiling. My Treecko was crushed somewhere beneath the five stone slabs that collapsed atop him. Somewhere in there, he was suffocating.

"WILLOW!"

* * *

_TREECKO, the wood gecko Pokémon. Pokédex entry number 252. _

_ TREECKO has small hooks on the bottom of its feet that enable it to scale vertical walls. This Pokémon attacks by slamming foes with its thick tail._

_TREECKO is cool, calm, and collected - it never panics under any situation. If a bigger foe were to glare at this Pokémon, it would glare right back without conceding an inch of ground._

* * *

_ Pets were becoming less common in the Hoenn region by the era that Jade became a trainer. Families were learning. Pokémon were too dangerous to keep around the house. Even the most good-natured, docile creatures still possessed the primal intuition of a wild beast found in the Pokémon on-route. So, average townsfolk simply stopped trying to tame them. It was a sudden phenomenon, and an initiative that kept the children of Hoenn safe. _

_ It was a practical solution._

_ For everyone except the Pokémon League. _

_ Children, by far, were the largest demographic the League dealt with. It was common in Hoenn culture for a child to embark on a Pokémon journey at a young age. The average age of a trainer was seventeen. The League was facing a crisis._

_ No pets meant no Pokémon for children to take on an adventure. _

_ No adventure meant no money for the League. _

_ And so, the Starter Initiative Program was adopted. _

_ Any solution the League tried to create became impractical with time. It wasn't feasible to catch large hordes of Pokémon, train them, and send them off with children eager for adventure. The Starter Initiative Program was presented to the League, and accepted with a unanimous vote by the board. A businessman proposed the solution to them—a future where the League could offer the perfect partner Pokémon to every boy and girl. He would breed three endangered species, back from the brink of extinction. They would be raised as docile trainer Pokémon, trained to be durable and flexible, then circulated throughout Hoenn. _

_ It was everything the League could have hoped for. So, they secretly funded the Starter Initiative Program, researched and developed by Professor Birch. He promised, within the first year of funding, that Starter Pokémon would become the golden standard for Hoenn. _

_ The Treecko that would later be named Willow was raised alongside two companions—Torchic, and Mudkip. The trio were raised together from birth in the Laboratory underneath Littleroot Town. _

_ Their enclosure was a small, white room, similar to the glass-walled cases found in Hoenn's foreclosed pet stores. There was a single bed, large enough for only one of them. They would sleep in shifts at various parts of the day, because it was impossible to tell when it was nighttime so deep underground. The overhead lamp was fluorescent and near-blinding; although the front wall was made from a thick glass, the light made it too difficult to see beyond their enclosure. Sometimes, a scientist would provide them with food. Too much food. But, they were fattened with an overabundance of nutrients, forced to eat every berry. _

_ As far as they were concerned, that Treecko, Torchic and Mudkip in the cage was their entire world. Everything beyond that was hope. _

_ Because, each of them was incredibly eager to become a trainer's companion. Every night, Treecko would envision itself in the arms of a starry-eyed child, eager to explore the world. It knew Torchic and Mudkip felt the same way. They loved the idea of being a human's partner for their trip through Hoenn. _

_ They were raised to love the idea. _

_ Finally, a fated day arrived. Because Professor Birch had a son. And his son was celebrating his sixteenth birthday. _

_ His present was his first Pokémon. _

_ Professor Birch was a busy man, and he could spare almost no time for his family. The only way for his son, Brendan, to become close to his father was through helping with his Pokémon research. But, to help with field research, Brendan would need a Pokémon. _

_ The trio were happy to help with that. _

_ They were raised to be happy to help. _

_ Treecko, Torchic, and Mudkip were inseparable friends. But, they knew that Brendan's birthday would come someday. A pact was made—there would be no hard feelings towards whichever Pokémon he chose. They would ALL be chosen by a trainer someday. And, a second pact was made—someday, they would have their trainers meet up again, somewhere in the world, so they could all be friends again. After their jobs as a trainer's Pokémon were fulfilled._

_ Professor Birch brought his son into the cage. The trio lined up eagerly, meeting their first child. The Professor asked his son which he would prefer to take along on his trip to Oldale Town. Brendan decided on Mudkip._

_ Treecko was secretly disappointed that he wasn't chosen._

_ It was raised to be disappointed. _

_ Mudkip was embraced into Brendan's arms, and he was sent on his way out onto Route 101. All that was left for Treecko and Torchic was patience. Their time would come someday. But, it was maddening not knowing when that day would be. Or what day it even was. Treecko still enjoyed Torchic's company, but he felt everyone's absence more than anyone's presence. With Mudkip gone, Treecko began to notice how empty their lives were. The beginning was exciting. They were hatched from their eggs, trained up to a certain point—then left in the cage, only paid attention to when they needed fed. But, however desperate they became, there was still hope on the horizon. Hope of meeting a child of their own. A traveling companion. _

_ Treecko wasn't sure how much time passed. But, eventually, Brendan returned to the Lab. Only, this time, he was hysterical. His screams could be heard through the thick glass. Treecko was worried. _

_ It was raised to be worried. _

_ And, even though it wasn't raised to be curious, it listened in._

_ "It died!"_

_ The words were sharp, and pierced Treecko's small world. Its hopes collided with reality, shattering into shards that spilled across the little white room it lived in all its life. Brendan hadn't returned from a successful trip—he returned on a failed one. _

_ Mudkip, killed by a Wurmple's poison on the first route. _

_ Treecko felt poisoned, too. It was poisoned by hatred, spiteful of the child for being so reckless with its friend's life. It was festering emotions it never felt before, not even sure it was possible to hate someone. _

_ It was not raised to hate someone. _

_ Birch's words only fanned the flames. _

_ "It's okay, it's okay," he assured his son, still bumbling in fear for his own life. "I'm just glad you're alright. Don't worry. We'll get you a new one by tomorrow."_

_ A thought whispered its way into Treecko's head. A thought that changed everything. The next shift it had, Treecko didn't sleep. The next morsel the scientists brought, Treecko didn't eat. It sustained itself on nothing but a deafening truth:_

_ My life means nothing to these humans. _

_ It was not raised to think these thoughts._

_ Treecko was world-weary, and it hadn't gotten the chance to live in the world yet. Suspicious, anxious, spiteful, it thought itself to exhaustion, wondering if it served any purpose. If Mudkip, if Torchic meant anything to anyone. The words echoed in his mind, and Treecko wondered if they were lingering in their cage like a smoke that was never aerated._

_ "It died!"_

_ Many sleepless nights, Treecko replayed the scene. _

_ It found something strange. _

_ "We'll get you a new one."_

_ A new Mudkip?_

_ There were others?_

_ The next morning, Professor Birch introduced a new Pokémon into the enclosure. _

_ Mudkip. _

_ It was not the same Mudkip. But, only Treecko could tell. Because, this Mudkip was exactly the same. Exactly. It shared the same dreams, behaved the same way. Their life slowly began to feel like an endless purgatory, where death was meaningless. _

_ It was not raised to feel these feelings. _

_ Treecko's head continued to whisper thoughts. Hope would not save it. Neither would patience. The only thing that could save it was answers. So, one feeding period, Treecko managed to sneak out of the enclosure to pursue them. The scientists never expected the Starters would be capable of becoming deviant. _

_ It wandered aimlessly, braving a new world it never knew. The world around the cage was daunting, confusing. The Lab was a labyrinth to the naïve Treecko. But, it eventually arrived at another room. A familiar one—the Hatchery. The Hatchery where the trio was born. Whether it was curiosity or fear that fueled Treecko, it made its way back into the once-known territory, to discover a suffocating truth. _

_ Thousands and thousands of Eggs._

_ The room was a genetic farm with a square footage even larger than the town it was hidden beneath. Cupped in metal containers, the Eggs were preserved in a bright-blue, viscous liquid that bubbled every few minutes. The fluorescent lighting only seemed more blinding, glaring off each and every case. From the entrance, the rows seemed endless to the Treecko, shaken to its core by the sight. Because, some of the Eggs were familiar. _

_ Treecko Eggs. _

_ An impossible number of a once-endangered Pokémon. _

_ It wandered further inward, between the rows, staring at the pristine specimens as it passed. Like a creature floating through space aimlessly, Treecko always felt alone in the universe, only to be overwhelmed by the vast life that surrounded it within the Hatchery. With every few steps, the reality only served to crush it further. Mudkip was replaceable. So were Torchic and Treecko. It could be poisoned by a Wurmple tomorrow, and a baker's dozen of new Treecko could be hatched, ready to serve, happy to help. _

_ Treecko had the recurring thought, standing in the center of the Treecko farm. _

_My life means nothing to these humans. _

_ Its desperation was only hammered in further upon reaching the end of the room, where the rows of eggs ended. A hall, mainly empty, with two heart monitors visible; one beeping on stunted intervals, the other steady and healthy. The two heartbeats, one off-beat and the other consistent, made for a dissonant, anxiety-inducing noise, making Treecko approach the end of the room extremely cautiously. _

_ It was not cautious enough. It should have stayed far away. _

_ There were two other tubes in the back of the Hatchery. The tube on the right contained another Treecko. It was much older than the one outside of the tube. More pale. When the outsider approached, the insider's yellow eyes did not meet their gaze. They remained still inside, unresponsive to their surroundings. No matter how much the young Treecko shook on the glass and called to it, it remained almost catatonic, ignoring the world altogether with a lonely, empty expression. _

_ The tube on the left contained a Pokémon that Treecko had never seen before. It was only in a solid, perceivable form because of the container it was kept within—a pink, liquid creature with an amorphous body, and a terrifyingly simple expression merged into the paste. The creature was lively with the presence of the new Treecko, which approached the tube, already shaking with the multitude of emotions flooding its mind. _

_ The Ditto in the tube began to change. _

_ And, before Treecko could understand what was happening, it was staring back at itself inside of the tube. A perfect clone, holding its hand up to the glass—sharing its destitute stare, sending it right back at the lost creature._

_ Treecko never considered where its parents were. _

_ It was not raised to consider it. _

_ But, it was able to fill in the blanks, reaching a startling discovery within the Hatchery. One that shook its faith to the core of its being, blossoming its hatred and causing it to snap, permanently, in a way that couldn't be repaired in a Lab. It learned something: _

_ My mother was a pile of slime in a tube. _

_ And, it was no longer just humans the Treecko hated._

_ It possessed self-hatred to match. _

_ "It's over here! It's been hiding in the hatchery!"_

_ Treecko remained still, crippled by the discovery in the tubes for nearly an hour; this was ample time for the Lab's scientists to find the missing Starter, after discovering the enclosure was short one Pokémon. Their shouts were filled with fury, their calm demeanor corroded into blind rage. How dare the thing they created act of its own will. How dare the thing they created act out against them. Treecko could not bear the strength to resist, yet still they wielded their Pokéballs against it. Pain surged through the Starter's body, as it was pelted by Magnemite sparks, whitening its vision in sudden spots. Its cries filled the hatchery, becoming more guttural, more sorrowful as consciousness was slipping from it._

_ Finally, a voice of reason from Birch. _

_ "Stop! Don't damage it any further!"_

_ But, his warning was not for the Treecko's safety. It was for the scientists._

_ "It's been modified to become stronger near death—"_

_ The light of the Lab turned a dense, dark green in a flash. Strobes of energy wriggled their way out of the Treecko's skin like a current, streaking across the floor and disrupting the white tiles beneath the scientists. An Egg's tube burst to their side, glass shattering all across the floor, preservatives spilling over their shoes. Another tube. Another. Treecko's attack was aimless and blind—a destruction spilling from it. _

_ By the end of the night, Treecko was detained in a Pokéball, at the cost of seven Pokémon's lives. The recorded number did not include the dozens of eggs sterilized in the process, nor the cost of damages upon the Hatchery. For these reasons, the Lab was forced to label Treecko as an irredeemable starter. No child could coexist with this Pokémon. Research would continue, the same as usual. The scientists would continue to make strides in their field, and discover a way to subdue the cloned Pokémon's personalities with future Starters. _

_ In the meanwhile, Professor Birch was entrusted on disposing of the deviant Treecko. Unsure of the havoc it could reach upon being released from its Pokéball, he decided that it was too dangerous to set it free anywhere near Littleroot. He planned on taking the creature out onto Route 101, and digging a hole to keep the creature trapped within its prison. No one knows what happens to a Pokémon if it's left within a ball for a near-eternity. Treecko would either starve and suffocate underground, or live forever and eventually cease thought. _

_ Before Birch could find a suitable tomb for the Treecko, however, he was attacked by a roaming, feral pack of Zigzagoon. _

_ And, he was consequently saved by a local girl._

* * *

_ WILLOW, the wood gecko Pokémon. Pokédex entry number 252. _

_ WILLOW has small hooks on the bottom of its feet that enable it to scale vertical walls. This Pokémon attacks by slamming foes with its thick tail. _

_ WILLOW is cool, calm, and collected - it never panics under any situation. If a bigger foe were to glare at this Pokémon, it would glare right back without conceding an inch of ground._

_ Ability: Overgrow. Powers up grass-type moves in a pinch._

* * *

My Pokémon was entombed by rocks on all four sides of it, crushed in an instant before my eyes. I watched the Gym Leader ease into a more casual stance, her Nosepass' strategy finally paying off with my carelessness. Tears streamed from my eyes, and that was _before _there was a deafening silence after the attack. I could see nothing from the outside. I could hear nothing from within.

Stunned, frozen by fear of the worst, I could only stare up towards the screen on the wall of the arena, staring at the Treecko's photo on the scoreboard. It wasn't darkened out yet; whoever was controlling it was equally unsure.

But, something about Roxanne's subdued expression screamed a possibility to me. The possibility that my Treecko was—

I screamed again.

"Willow?!"

A stabbing silence.

"WILLOW!"

"_Shut the hell up._"

A pulse shook the arena, as green sparks rippled across the uneven ground of the arena, reaching the edges and making the hair on my arms agitate. From the thinnest slits between the rocks squeezing up against each other, a blinding iridescent light crept in waves. The stones were slowly beginning to part, revealing more of the violent glow from within. In the center, Willow's figure rising from the tomb, energy wafting off of his visage in sudden, unpredictable waves.

"_Having a trainer is so fucking annoying,_" he grumbled. His voice was more guttural, wounded—but I was happy beyond belief to be hearing it. "_Every little holler and peep, ringing in my ears every second of the day…_"

Without dispelling the light surrounding him, and without turning to face me, his trainer—Willow pointed back.

"_Were you stupid enough to forget that I told you I wouldn't die?_"

He leapt from the stones, the green hue trailing off of him like the tail of a comet. Once his feet clawed their way back onto solid ground, he sped towards the opposing end of the arena at an unseen speed—the only way my eyes could track him was from the light. Roxanne's reaction was stuttered; she had no idea what was happening, but her fight-or-flight was palpable, whipping an arm out in front of her.

"N-Nosepass!"

The Pokémon's posture stiffened, its body hunched in concentration. A similar magnetic energy was forming around its front side, the surrounding earth being disrupted. Stones floated all around it, telekinetically kept airborne. With a tilt of both its arms, the stone was commanded outwards, soaring towards Willow in streaks.

Watching Willow maneuver through the attacks is a memory I will keep with me for the rest of my life. Leaping, shifting and flipping through the surge of stones without losing a bit of momentum in his approach. It was like watching a skilled, practiced dance, green strobes spiraling off of his body and following his approach like a chariot of energy. In the moment, I was afraid out of my mind. But, thinking back on it, it was oddly beautiful.

Centimeters before reaching his target, Willow was struck on his side by a boulder. My chest tightened as I assumed that was the end of his battle. Before I could jostle his Pokéball back into my hands to withdraw him, my senses were assaulted by a scream. A war cry from Willow, travelling through the air with a metallic echo from the strange aura emitting from him.

And, instead of succumbing to the fatal blow, he laid his hands upon the Nosepass, clutching onto it with a deathly grip, green light amplifying around them. No matter how much the stone statue of a creature writhed beneath him, Willow would not relent. As the glow diminished, and the Leader's Pokémon collapsed to the floor beneath it, my mind oddly wandered. It meandered its way back to the moment I first met Willow, when he saved my life from the Zigzagoon on Route 101. What he said to them after scaring the pack off.

_I was built for this. _

I succeeded in my first Gym Challenge. I almost failed, because Roxanne hit me with something I never saw before. But, Willow hit her with something neither of us have seen before.


	9. Part Eight: The Devon Goods

**Chapter Eight: The Devon Goods**

* * *

"_Get that spray away from me!_"

"Willow, you're injured. This is supposed to help."

"_That shit is freezing!_"

With no semblance of dignity, I hunched over my injured Treecko, the contents of my Bag spilled out across the Gym floor. I spared no expense—my Pokémon practically scared the life out of me. I unloaded an entire Potion across the wounds on his skin. His injuries weren't life-threatening (mostly thanks to his own self-healing attacks), but I wouldn't rest until he was _spotless_. It was also a less-than-ideal time to discover that Willow hated Potions, revolting like a child being sprayed with sun tan lotion.

"_Enough, enough!_" He objected. "_You're going to drown me in chemicals._"

"Are you sure?" I asked, already shaking a second canister. "If there's any internal damage, you're supposed to ingest some to get it into your system…"

"_I refuse. It tastes far worse than it feels._"

"Oh, don't be such a child."

"_Says the woman who was sobbing like a newborn at the first sign of trouble!_"

Well, at least he upgraded me from 'kid' to 'woman'. Although, it was hard to appreciate any form of respect, since he was comparing me to a newborn. I was so distracted with my Pokémon's safety, that I disregarded my surroundings after the fight. It was the first time I allowed myself to ignore whatever crowd was surrounding the arena. And, it gave Roxanne the chance to approach under my notice. My eyes panned up to her expression, seeing that it was surprisingly neutral. There was no befuddlement over what my Pokémon had done, nor any ridicule for how I composed myself after the battle was over. If anything, there was a tinge of admiration. Only a tinge.

At first, I assumed she was offering me a hand to help me back on my feet. But, I saw a shimmering slab of metal in her open palm, copper in sheen and slick to the touch.

"Your badge," she said, voice subdued. "If you wear this on your person, it will signify that you're a trainer recognized by the Rustboro Gym."

"Oh, thank you," I accepted the badge into my hand, unsure of where to place it. Perhaps haphazardly, I placed it in my pocket to her judgmental nod.

"Won't do you much good in there," she remarked.

"I mean, it's just, I don't want to be showy—" I stammered awkwardly.

"Well, you ought to show it off. You earned the win."

"I dunno. I just don't like showing off that I beat you. Feels like it'd be insulting."

"I'd be more insulted if you beat me and _didn't _show off the badge."

"Oh."

I couldn't tell if Roxanne was a fan of me, or my biggest hater. Although, to be fair, I wasn't sure what I thought of her, either. So at least we had that in common. The badge would eventually make its way onto the strap of my Bag.

"You gave me a lot to think about, you know," she added, attention turning towards Willow. He was paying her no mind. "You spend enough time battling for the League, you start to feel like you've seen it all. I suppose I should be thanking you for the sudden humility. It gives me more to work towards in the future."

"_Why is she thanking you for giving her more work? What is wrong with her?_" I was thankful Willow's remark could only be heard by me. Before I could acknowledge my Pokémon's snide remarks, the Gym Leader garnered my attention with a pressing question.

"Which Gym are you planning to challenge next?"

"I'm not sure," I answered after a pensive moment. "Petalburg's the closest, but I think I'll save that one for later down the line…"

"I was about to recommend that, actually. Your father runs a tight ship. Out of all the Gyms, his has the lowest success rate for challengers. There's almost no point to challenging it until you qualify for the Major League, in my opinion."

It was hard for me to admit to Roxanne that I had no idea what I was doing. I stumbled my way into the Rustboro Gym through a strange series of circumstances that eventually led to my first badge. I had no plan. I only knew one Gym—one that I _didn't _want to challenge yet. With a Littleroot heritage to my name, I had no clue where the other six were, and it felt embarrassing to ask the person I just beat.

Before I could utter a lofty excuse, there was a second shadow looming over me, another presence that was spectating the match from the bleachers earlier. I turned to meet the suited gentleman's welcoming gaze, a few years older than my folks, redheaded over his wrinkled face. Meeting a new person, I rose from my kneel over Willow, standing stiffly in front of him. His hand was offered before any of his words.

"You would be Jade, is that correct?" he said finally. "That was a performance with bombast that I haven't seen in quite some time!"

"Oh, thanks," I took, then shook, his hand firmly.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Mr. Mowberry. I'm a researcher that works for the Devon Corporation downtown. You've heard of us before, yes?"

I nodded, thinking back to the smokestacks that were covering the horizon of Rustboro when I first entered it. One side of the city was a college town, and the other was a business district. Devon Corporation was a household name in Hoenn, even for a place as sheltering as Littleroot. In a closed-off country, it was one of the only competing region-wide businesses. I had no idea their headquarters was in Rustboro, though.

"Excellent," Mr. Mowberry nodded back with a political smile. "Devon has a particular interest in League trainers, so they asked me to spectate this impromptu match that Roxanne announced last night. Tell me, Jade, has any other corporation approached you about a sponsorship yet?"

"No… they haven't," I answered, almost too truthfully. Maybe it was a fruitless attempt, but I tried to hide my disgust towards the topic. Something about a corporation sponsoring my trip around Hoenn was off-putting, but I couldn't put my finger on why.

"Then, this could be an amazing opportunity for you!" he exclaimed excitedly. "It can prove difficult for rookie trainers to gain a following, especially in these turbulent times. I'm sure Devon would be happy to sponsor your journey across Hoenn!"

"Is that so… Well, I—"

"Now, I didn't bring a contract with me, but the paperwork could be filed back at Headquarters. But, I'll give you the sales pitch. It doesn't require any additional work on your end, but you'd give Devon permission to record your future Gym challenges. The livestream will be viewable from Devon's website, and monetized based on viewership. Of course, the Trainer gets a cut of the profit by the end of this whole process."

"Hold on, wait," I halted him with an outward hand towards him. "That sounds great and all… but I don't think this is for me."

"Is that so?" He asked, frowning. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't really want a whole bunch of eyes on me…" I shrugged. "I just want to do my own thing, to be honest."

"If that's what has you worried, I can assure you that Devon will avoid complicating your journey for you," Mr. Mowberry continued his sales pitch, to my chagrin. "There won't be much change on your end. This is simply an opportunity to earn a steady income as a professional trainer."

"I make enough money for myself just travelling, though." My patience wearing down, I became stern in my responses behind folded arms. The Devon researched reacted to my demeanor with more direct answers of his own.

"Off the kindness of others, I assume," he replied. "But, you'll only make as much cash as there are available trainers. And that's only assuming you win every battle, and that people are charitable enough to give you prize money."

"That's been more than enough so far."

"Devon is willing to send your profits to whatever hometown you hail from. The amount doesn't vary if you win or lose."

I paused. Although I had no idea how we got here, he found an offer that struck a chord with me. He seemed pleased, like the businessman he was.

"You could send the cash home to my mom?"

"Of course," Mr. Mowberry assured. "We understand that most trainers are still dependents on their parent's taxes, so we'd be happy to send the income you make on your journey directly to your family. All it takes is a signature or two back at Headquarters."

Unwillingly tempted by the support I could send to my Littleroot-bound mother, I tensed up in silence, letting a moment pass where it was obvious that I was seriously considering the offer. And, to his credit, Mr. Mowberry gave me that moment, likely expecting that I would accept regardless. The chance to give back to my mom, after all these years, to give her money that wasn't a check from Norman in the mail every month—it was everything I wanted. Before I could utter an answer, I felt Roxanne's hand pat my shoulder; she must have assumed I would accept, too.

"I'll be back at my place," she said. "Stop by there tonight, and I'll let you know which Leaders are available for your next challenge."

With a nod, I thanked her. I was mostly thankful that it was becoming clear that she didn't hate me, at the very least.

* * *

The sky above the Corporation felt overcast from the smokestacks erupting into a canopy of clouds over the western edge of town. Following Mr. Mowberry towards the interior of the business district, it was larger than I could tell from the outside. The factories were only the boundary between Devon and the rest of town. Strolling past the entrance gates, thanks to the special access the researcher was able to grant us, the space opened up, similar to the college campus to the east. The outer layer of Devon was blue-collar buildings; the center was white-collar. Business edifices rounded in a cul-de-sac, surrounding an ornate fountain in the center.

Already, receiving a sponsor was more trouble than I asked for. As Mr. Mowberry led me towards the tallest building of the bunch, the Headquarters, he trailed off on tangents packaged as a 'grand tour of Devon'.

"Devon Corporation came from humble beginnings," he began. It took a lot to avoid rolling my eyes. "It was a grassroots business here in Rustboro. To this day, it specializes in handling trainer needs."

The glass doors of Headquarters parted, allowing us entrance into the main lobby. To my surprise, the building felt less like a business on the inside. It felt scientific in design, with white walls and workers in lab coats. After introducing me to the receptionist, the researcher handed me a lanyard and led me towards the elevator on the right.

"Most regions are entirely reliant on foreign goods to supply their trainers," he explained, the hum of elevator music accompanying the bore of an explanation. "Silph Co has a worldwide monopoly. But not in Hoenn. We're entirely self-sufficient. And that's primarily thanks to Devon Corporation meeting the demand of its region's trainers."

I wasn't sure if he expected questions from me, but I felt better off just listening. The elevator eventually opened on a floor high above Rustboro, to an extravagant room with red-furred carpets. There were short, obsidian pillars on each side of the hall, housing oddly-shaped stones in the glass cases above them. Portraits of top brass executives of Devon were hung between them on the walls. I leaned over to peer into each of the glass cases. It felt like I was in an art exhibit, and Mr. Mowberry chuckled.

"You're a curious one," he said. "Similar to Roxanne in that way. Devon doesn't just support trainers—they support students, too. We fund the University's fossil research. They do good work down there. The League makes sure of that."

I heard a hum from his vest, and before I could turn to face the researcher, he was holding an empty Pokéball in his hand. Or, at least, that's what it looked like—I'd never seen one like it. There was a sleek modernity to it, like a movie prop on a sci-fi set. The design on the upper hemisphere was elaborate, artful.

"And that's not all," he continued. "Devon manufactures unique, state-of-the-art Pokéballs for Hoenn. This model hits the market later this month. It's a device that has proven effectiveness capturing water and bug-type Pokémon. Our goal is to make it as easy as possible for trainers to embark on a journey."

"_Lovely,_" I heard Willow mumble. "_They pad our prisons now. How kind of them._"

Devon Corporation certainly dressed to impress. The whole time the researcher was showing off the business he worked for, I questioned how I caught the attention of such a big-time company. They sent someone to watch my match against Roxanne. As much as I'd like to assume that was common practice, I hadn't known of another trainer on my journey that was sponsored. The whole time he explained the ethics of Devon, I knew he wasn't trying to amaze me. He was trying to convince me that my mother was going to receive money from something important. Something safe and harmless.

It seemed that way so far.

But, skeptical as ever, the thought crept to my mind—_what's the catch? _

It was on the way.

"We were surprised, Jade," Mr. Mowberry said. "I did some digging on your background. I had no idea that Norman had a daughter."

I smiled to hide my wince.

"It's a surprise to most people."

"I suppose he has a right to privacy," he shrugged. "Still, I would expect no less of his daughter. It's no wonder you're a stellar trainer."

Though I nodded along, I was stung by his remark. Telling me that my success was Norman's—that was the first red flag. The second was on the way.

"Did you grow up in Petalburg?"

"No," I said. "With my mom. In Littleroot."

"Ah. Then you must be familiar with Professor Birch."

Something within me sunk. The last I heard of Birch, we were on unclear terms. Primarily because I sent his son home with a corpse to his name. Or, namely, Willow did.

"_Familiar_, yes," I answered, trying to avoid lying.

"Then you're aware of the great work he's done for Hoenn," Mr. Mowberry smiled, the admiration for the conversation topic palpable. "His research on Pokémon behavior in the wilderness has saved many young lives. And he's a business partner with the League."

"Oh," I said blandly, emptily. It was strange, hearing the researcher talk about Birch. It felt obvious to me that he never met the Professor. He was hardly the hero or savior Mr. Mowberry was telling me he was. Before I could try to shift topics, he patted the side of my shoulder with a tinge of camaraderie.

"I'm starting to think that this was fate, Jade," he said, almost jokingly. "You, from Littleroot, being scoped out by us, in Rustboro."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Devon Corporation is a business sub-sect of Birch Labs."

His intentions suddenly became clear to me. He acted like it was a pure coincidence that I was from Littleroot, where Birch researched. He knew. He had to have known, despite pretending he didn't. And, he probably thought that personal connection would drive me closer to joining Devon. But, it taught me two different lessons.

One, that Birch was far more powerful than I thought.

Two, that becoming an enemy of his could be the death of me.

"Well, we're more than a sub-sect, really," the researcher was still off on a tangent. Which was fortunate, since he didn't notice my dire reaction. "Professor Birch is the bridge between Devon and the League. He's the reason we have an ongoing relationship. That, and he funds our fossil resurrection program entirely out-of-pocket."

"Hey, uh—I was wondering…"

"Yes, Jade?"

"You mentioned needing a signature to be sponsored. Does that have to be right away, or could I think it over…?"

He gave a pensive stare, likely wondering where he lost me along the way.

"Well, I don't have the power to offer you a sponsorship," he explained. "I'm only the scout. To officiate anything, we'll need to discuss things with Mr. Stone. That's where we were headed, actually. Mr. Stone is a busy man, and we're dropping in without an appointment—so, you'll have some time to think it over before we discuss."

I was led further down the hall, passing by white doors on each side of the eccentrically-decorated walls. The portraits started becoming more scarce, until they were replaced with pictures of actual trainers. They were all sponsored; in front of their names on the plaque, they were labeled [Devon].

We eventually reached the end, where wooden double-doors awaited us on the wall opposite to our approach. There were benches parallel to each wall, and Mr. Mowberry guided my stride through the building towards them.

"If I could have a moment alone with Mr. Stone," he said, gesturing towards the bench. "I'd like to introduce you properly before you meet."

"Of course. Go ahead."

"I'll be right back."

And, with the researcher's exit into his boss' office, I was finally alone to think for myself. Well, truthfully, I was far from alone.

"_Run. Escape. Now._"

"Willow—he said he'd be right back."

"_I don't care. This could be your only chance before they deceive you into a deal._"

"They're not deceiving anybody," I assured him sternly, but quietly, in case we were being monitored in any way. "They were upfront about being partners with Birch before we even signed anything. And, even if he's a part of this, it doesn't make the deal any less appealing."

"_If you're seriously considering aligning yourself with these people, you should save me the trouble and release me into the Woods to the south._"

The remark shocked and confused me. Willow wasn't above being dramatic and sarcastic. But it was clear that he was dead-serious.

"_Willow._" Spike chimed into our conversation, judgement harsh in her voice. "_Cease this tantrum. Jade's your trainer. She's entitled to whatever decision SHE wants to make._"

"_You don't understand,_" Willow interjected abruptly.

"_Then make me understand._"

"Willow, what's going on?" I added, trying to hide my concern knowing it would only frustrate him. "Is this about the fight on Route 103? With that Torchic? I feel bad about what happened with Brendan, but—"

"_No!_" He spouted, adjusting his tone back down. "_No. I feel no remorse putting that son of a bitch in his place. I'd do it again if I had the chance._"

"Then is it about Birch? Because, I'm no fan of his either."

"_You couldn't possibly get it—_" Willow stammered through his anger, voice humming to a higher volume as he explained. "_No human could ever understand, if it's normal to consider Birch a 'great man'! If he's not the worst of your kind, I don't want anything to do with any of you!_"

I recognized Willow's tone. Something clicked. It was far from familiar to me—but a word rose into my subconscious. It was something deeper than any hatred I housed for Birch's son. It was even deeper than my disdain for Norman.

Abuse.

"Willow… what did he do to you?"

No answer. None of my other Pokémon could get anything out of him, either. But, the silence spoke wonders. I rose out of my seat, strolling back down the hallway we just toured through, eyes towards the elevator.

"_Jade, where are we going?_" Goonie asked.

"We're leaving."

"_Are you sure?__This was a chance to send some cash back home, right? Do you really want to leave without a word?_"

"We should," I told him, and the rest of my party. While it was a sudden decision, it wasn't a whim; it was far more rigid. "I trust you all. And I won't rope you into something you're not comfortable with. We won't take Birch's money—"

The researcher told me that it felt like fate that I was at Devon Corporation. I didn't agree with him at the time. But, I stood up to leave at the perfect moment, at the exact same time as a door to my right swung open. And, for the first time since he said it, I suddenly felt like my trip to Devon _was _fateful.

And a terrible fate it was.

What caught me first was the white of his wool cap that hung over the back of his head, wrapped around by a green bandana. The familiar red Littleroot fashion stunned me in the center of the hallway; I had nowhere to run or hide. Carrying the same Bag as I last saw him, he would eventually meet my eyes with his. And, in that moment, we shared our first common thought; he was as shocked to see me in Devon as I was. Instinctively, I felt myself backing away, eventually nudging a pillar behind me, housing a fossil atop it.

His shoulders swerved around to face me, and a smirk emerged on his face. With a huff of discovery, Brendan was standing across from me in the hallway. Speak of the devil, and he doth appear.

"I thought I heard your voice," he said, taking in my sudden desperation. "If it isn't my favorite fuckin' person."

I went to move. I wasn't sure where, but I was in fight-or-flight, and the second I jerked towards the opposite direction, Brendan tore into his Bag, taking a step towards me. He was holding a Pokéball out towards me, threateningly (I didn't know enough about the law to know if it was illegal to do that). He said nothing, but I still froze. It was obvious what the gesture said: _be still. Not a muscle_.

"Brendan—" I began shakily, back still up against the pillar. All hope of having a casual conversation was gone, but I couldn't think of what else to say. "What are you doing here?!"

"My dad sent me on a job." His answer came with a strafe around me, like he was prowling and cornering me. Each step felt slow, like I couldn't afford to breathe. "Some updates for his Pokédex… I get the feeling it was work meant for someone else, before they turned down the offer."

His explanation made me assume the worst. Not only did I make an enemy of Brendan, but now Birch had it out for me, too. I failed every time I tried diplomacy with him, but my guilt was eating away at me. I tried to fight our battle with words again.

"Look, man." I began, clearing up the tightening I felt in my throat. Now that I was used to sticking up for myself, it was coming out a lot quicker than before. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be here today—"

"Oh, don't be sorry, Jade," he interrupted. "I've been looking everywhere for you in my free time. You travel just as fast as the news of your exploits. Each and every route, there's a trainer that knows your name. Those pockets getting too heavy for you, with all the allowances you've been stealing off kids?"

"Brendan, really…" I implored. If being reasonable would fail, I figured it was best to try everything I could think of. I would be blunt, but honest and vulnerable too. "If this is about Torchic, I'm so sorry about what happened."

He laughed breathily at my apology, eyes wide with surprise, like he couldn't _believe _I said that to him. There was a wilderness to the tone of his cackle, like a primal anger was unearthed, and packed right back down after he calmed himself.

"You think _that's _what this is about?!" Brendan ridiculed me. I couldn't believe it; that the murder of his partner wasn't the reason he outwardly despised me. "That blood on your hands is the least of your crimes! No, that's not it. You're just the brat that got too big for your britches, for all I care."

My disbelief was slowly consumed by an insidious anger. He cared so little for that Torchic, that he made me feel stupid for being so hung up over it. But still, he harbored hatred towards me like I _did _kill someone, or something, close to him. I popped whatever imaginary balloon of ego he had. Whatever semblance of self-importance he had—a child from a closed-border, backwoods town, a child with a power-crazed and possessive father of questionable ethics. It was nonsense. It was problem without a solution. And, something clicked in my brain, something I could only understand staring down the craze in his eyes.

Brendan was everything I hated about Littleroot.

No, he was so much more.

He was everything I hated about Hoenn.

My jaw tightened, and I processed that thought as best I could manage in the moment. I heard Willow make a plea to be released.

"_Kid. Let me loose._"

I didn't listen. Maybe because, fruitlessly, I hoped there was a reasonable person beneath Brendan's exterior. I thought, subconsciously, that there was someone in there that I could learn to get along with. So, I had the foresight to refuse Willow's invitation to cause a rampage against Brendan.

But, these thoughts were still fresh.

There will be a time down the line where I'm not thinking so clearly. There will be a time where I don't care what happens to Brendan—no. I'll care far too much. I'll care for his demise. The death of everything he thought was important.

But, not during our fight in Devon. It was too early.

"My pride as a trainer is on the line," he told me, pressing a thumb into the button on the front of his Pokéball, priming to release the creature. There was a subtle desperation to his voice. He acted eagerly and cautious at the same time, a whirlwind of emotions all packaged into one unhinged boy. "I got my pop's blessing to come out here and pay you back for our last battle. This time, I'll send _you _home kicking and screaming. I'll make _you _feel like a loser, see how _you_ like it! Lotad!"

The stout creature was one I was familiar with—several trainers I fought along the routes had a similar Pokémon. The blue, ducklike beast sprawled across the ground with a green-lily cap attached to the top if it. It was all par for the course on my adventure. Everything except its crazed demeanor.

"Astonish!"

The Lotad dove towards me. I was slow on the uptake; I never expected to have a Pokémon battle _indoors_. In a building I was invited to for a sponsorship. On the top floor of some important business bureau. So, instead of defending myself, I scrambled out of the way on reaction, as the Pokémon knocked into the pillar behind me. Something within me sunk when I heard the crash of glass in my periphery. The casing, and the fossil it was protecting, were in shambles across the red-rugged floor of the hallway.

I found myself off my feet, wriggling to a seated position facing the Lotad, which whipped itself around to crawl towards me. With a snarl, it approached with aggressive intention, as I kicked myself backwards in a flailing response. I felt the rug burning the backs of my calves as I dragged myself away from the attacking creature.

Worse yet, I could hear Brendan _laughing_.

"You've got such a shitty poker face, Jade." He taunted, directing his Pokémon's attacks every step of the way. "I can see you're shocked. That's right, Norman's little princess isn't the only one who spent this month training. I battled all the way to Rustboro for this rematch!"

"We can't do this here!" I shouted sternly, suddenly. I was frustratingly distracted by the clawed-up trail of torn rug behind the Lotad, and the glass and expensive stone crashed across the ground. "_Brendan!_ You're going to wreck Devon!"

"What does it matter?! It's my father's company—I can do whatever I want with it!"

A lost cause, every step of the way. Pampered, despite being so tortured. He probably figured that he could blame me for the damages. If he was Birch's kid, who would believe _me_? He was setting me up for a whole new world of shit.

And, that was when I realized that I had to fight back. There was no other way out of this situation without a miracle. Before the Lotad could reach me, I was tearing through my bag, coming across my Treecko's Pokéball. I released him with a single, stern order.

"Willow….! Don't go too far this time!"

"_That brat is a monster._" His anger was clear to interpret, and he wasn't exactly wrong, either. "_I'd be doing his Pokémon a favor."_

"Don't kill them." I repeated, no room for debate.

"_Have it your way._"

With a flourish of his Pokéball, Willow crashed into the Lotad, meeting its charge directly towards me. They grappled and clung to one another on their tumble across the hall, eventually shouldering another pillar, knocking its content onto the floor and furthering the mess.

The exchange looked even, matching each other's strength and digging into the other with claws and teeth. But, I was certain that it wasn't, because I could see the faint glow of green energy from Willow's attack. He wasn't thoughtlessly wrestling the opposing Pokémon—he was siphoning energy from it. Eventually, the Lotad was weakened to a point of immobility, Willow having taken everything he could from it. And, to my Treecko's credit, he had the temperament to release the creature without killing it, leaving it sprawled across the floor in front of a shocked Brendan.

Believing that the fight was over, I swelled with a sudden surge of confidence. I stood back up, staring Brendan in the eyes aggressively. He had a permanent look of fury towards me, so it was unclear how defeated he felt.

"There." I said like I was lecturing him. "Satisfied yet?"

"God dammit…" he growled under his breath, fingers clenched into fists. "You and that defective Treecko! How did you raise up that dud my dad tried to toss in the trash?"

I shouted back at him angrily. It was the first time I snapped so outwardly, so I could tell that Brendan as taken aback for a moment.

"Maybe because I treated him like he was more than _trash_!" I said. "Do you even hear yourself?! When you talk about Pokémon, you sound like a psychopath!"

He scoffed. I wasn't getting through. Instead of surrendering, or running back to his father like last time, I could tell something was different. He was reaching into his Bag. He wasn't done fighting. He had another Pokémon. I felt prepared; I told myself, whatever he sent out against me, I would handle.

I wasn't right. Not fully, at least.

"Don't act so high-and-mighty. A Pokémon doesn't get stronger through back-rubs and spoon-fed meals, Jade. They're raised to be killers. Torchic!"

The familiar orangish creature stood across from Willow in the hall. I couldn't believe my eyes—it wasn't just the same type of Pokémon. It looked like it was the _same Pokémon_. Down to the details in its feathers, the features of its face. For a second, I pondered if I just imagined killing his last Torchic. If it was somehow still alive.

But, those hopes were dashed by Willow's reaction.

He tensed up, just like back on Route 103 in our first bout with Brendan. Everything screamed that he _knew _the Torchic he was forced to fight against. It was recognition married with rage. And, I received the same impression that I did with his words earlier. The same thought arose, and my confidence was fleeting again.

Abuse.

"_That bastard…_" Willow said, nearly whispering in his shock._ "He went back to the Lab for another._"

"Ember!"

With Brendan's order, the battle resumed. A plume of flames erupted from the Torchic's beak, splashing with the violence of bombs and the beauty of fireworks. Willow was snapped out of his trance by the flames, whipping his body out of the way, feet leaving the ground as his right arm balanced his flip backwards. The ball of flames skidded across the carpet, leaving a charred trail in its wake.

The fire only glanced against Willow. But, from the first attack, I could tell that this Torchic was more powerful than the last. When we last fought Brendan, I didn't know nearly as much about battles as I did now. I thought back to the books Roxanne lent me, and the chart I forced myself to memorize in the front.

_Fire is super-effective against Grass. _

Through it all, Brendan was still. Fucking. Laughing.

"Good, good—" he praised his Pokémon like he suddenly cared for it. "Torch them! Light the whole hallway up, they'll have nowhere to run!"

And, like a well-behaved war machine, Torchic obliged. It continued its onslaught of embers until patches of the rug were starting to smoke. Brendan was like a child toying with a blowtorch, and I couldn't believe his disregard for the safety of the workers at Devon. Though Willow was fast, I feared it was too dangerous to trust him against his weakness. I reached for another Pokémon, and he was prepared before I even called him.

"Goonie!"

"_Already on it!_"

Willow was dragged back towards me by a darkening flash; it was clear from his reaction that he wasn't expecting to be called out of the fight. In his place, my Zigzagoon charged into the hallway, head impacting with the side of the Torchic. From the clash, both Pokémon were launched backwards, landing on their feet across from one another. Goonie's hair was standing on its ends, hunched and growling. Brendan looked displeased with my decision to call Willow back.

"Damn… after I went to all the trouble to fight against your clown. You went ahead and trained up a whole circus."

With swipes of its claws, the Torchic was able to keep Goonie at bay, having to move unorthodoxly to approach Brendan's Pokémon. Through sneaky strikes, my Zigzagoon was able to keep the upper hand against the strange, cloned creature my Littleroot peer brought against me. As the battle enraged, I was noticing something strange, however subtle it was. And, although Goonie was well-focused on the fight at hand, he remarked the exact thing I was thinking from the sidelines.

"_What the hell is this thing?_"He questioned through exasperated breaths. "_It's taking my hits like… like it doesn't feel anything…!_"

Just before something could go wrong, the worst interruption possible occurred.

I was blinded and deafened, all at once, my senses assaulted at every angle. When my sight and sound returned to me, I could see Brendan hunched in sudden surprise and duress, as well. I felt something vaguely sharp, pelting my skin dozens of times every second. Though my ears rang, they heard something piercing as well. Smoke was filling the hallway as the fires were doused.

The Torchic's attacks set off the sprinklers. An alarm blared in accompaniment.

I could only think one thing. I was in so much trouble.

A wall of doused flames erupted between us, smoke blinding my view of Brendan. My mind raced, picturing the headlines that would reach my mother. _Upstart trainer arrested at Devon Corporation for arson charges. _What would I tell her, and how would I face her afterwards? Tell her I'm sorry, that I was just trying to earn her some _money_?

I spent this entire fight berating Brendan for how childish he was acting. But, I did something immature in response to the alarms.

I ran.

My trajectory was straight back, from where I came when I was waiting for the Devon President to meet with me. Without a second thought, I fled the fight with Brendan, skating across the carpet with my Running Shoes serving me well yet again. It was tough to hear over the blaring warning signs ringing through the Devon halls, but I heard Brendan's voice trail off, unable to give chase with the boundary of flames he built between us.

"Where are you going?!" His screams nearly cracked his voice. "We're not finished! GET BACK HERE!"

Like I would listen to him.

Bolting back the way I came, my mind was racing for solutions. I couldn't very well barge into the president's office and act like the fire wasn't my fault. There were rooms on each side of the waiting area I was left at. I thought, if I could somehow unlock one of those doors, sneak my way inside and act innocent until the heat died down—

Again, my luck was worse for wear. Just as I hatched a scheme to escape being blamed for this ridiculous fight, Mr. Mowberry was exiting the president's office. There was a wild haste and worry painted across his face. I was feet away from his entrance into the hall, and my heart sunk in defeat.

Busted.

Before I could say anything, he held onto my arm, not letting me run off; it was probably obvious that I was just as bewildered as he was. His voice was shaky, but he was serious in the way adults were in dangerous situations.

"Jade, there you are—come quickly, it's not safe here."

He pulled me towards the room on my right. To my dismay, it wasn't even locked to begin with; I was dragged away from the hallway in what initially seemed to be a dark room. My first thought was, _interrogation chamber, maybe a Devon-manufactured jail cell just for me. _Instead, when my eyes adjusted, I was surprised to see that it was a dimly-lit stairwell, concrete and more decrepit in design.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, stunned.

"Through the fire exit. Devon is under siege."

His answers were hasty. But, I was only becoming more bewildered over time with how distracted he was. He wasn't apprehending me for a heinous crime at all. And, themore I thought about it, he never took a moment to even notice the smoke in the hallway. He left the president's office _already _frightened and worried.

The shriek of the alarm in my ears was starting to become more normal, too. And, in adjusting to it, I realized something strange. It wasn't a fire alarm. Confused as ever, I asked a question I could only imagine sounded vague and ridiculous.

"Am I in trouble…?"

Perplexed, he turned to me.

"Of course not," he assured me. The look on his face told me he realized that I had no idea what was going on. So, he halted our escape down the hall to explain himself.

"But we're in danger. There's been a breach at Headquarters. Team Aqua is running rampant all around Rustboro. They're abducting trainer's Pokémon."

Mr. Mowberry felt like a prophet in that moment. It _was _fate that I was visiting Devon Corporation that day. I was fated to meet with Brendan at the exact moment that Team Aqua would cause a stir in a highly-populated location for the first time. I was saved by the most dismal sequence of consequences.

Today was a day filled with unfortunate fate.


	10. Lorekeeper's Journal: Volume 2

**Lorekeeper's Journal, Vol. 2**

There's more to this story than meets Jade's eyes.

* * *

_ Other regions have wonders of their own. Statues in memory of the legendary Pokémon that founded their homeland. Landmarks of great importance like mountains and oceans. Hoenn has those. But, Steven told me that Hoenn's greatest wonders are the people that live within it. He told me that one of the greatest wonders of the world could be found in a decrepit old cottage just outside of Petalburg City. _

_His name is William Briney. He owns a small cabin on the southern coast of Route 104, and was a former man of the sea._

_ Mr. Briney spent the first twenty-four years of his life in Pacifidlog, located in Hoenn's southern ocean. A recent census has removed the word "Town" from its official title on maps. The reason being that Pacifidlog was far too harsh of a location to be considered inhabitable by humans. Pacifidlog is instead known as a labor camp, set up by the Pokémon League long ago. _

_ There is no island out there. The homes and sweatshops were built upon wooden planks, floating above rafts in the center of Hoenn's harshest ocean. This meant that Pacifidlog was never fully still, constantly swayed by the sea's waves._

_ Mr. Briney hated that constant, sickening feeling. _

_ Their work was simple: sewing fabric to export to the Kalos Region, for sixteen hours a day. Through his nausea and disarray, Mr. Briney would often struggle to sew perfect seams. At its worst, he was unable to follow a straight line, thanks to the shifting ground beneath him. Twice before adulthood, he was savagely beaten by a guard for his mistakes._

_ He lived with his mother, who seldom spoke with him. She, like many others who were stranded at the labor camp, were working away a prison sentence. To cope with their destitute life, Mr. Briney's mother would drink herself to sleep every night. Her son would try this on just one occasion—only to discover that drinking made the swaying much, much worse. He would instead spend the nights sleepless in his cubby without a mattress, resting on rotting wood, at the mercy of the waves beneath Pacifidlog. _

_ Unable to rest, he would spend his nights thinking about something no human should._

_Existence. _

_Always moving, but never able to move away. He was raised completely unskilled, and would never write his life story down. So, his suffering was only ever passed through word-of-mouth over the decades. Few know what his life was truly like before age seventy. _

_Although the young man had no way of knowing, he was born in the perfect era to escape his plight. The Age of Hoenn Exploration. _

_Age forty-two. Mr. Briney was employed at the labor camp for nearly his whole life; he spent the last five years alone, after his mother's liver failed in their home one morning. His hands were calloused like a man who lived thrice his span, with eyes weary from the bright shimmer of the ocean constantly assaulting his sight. On an empty stomach, four days running, he considered swimming out to sea for the trillionth time, only to remind himself of the Sharpedo infestation. Unable to do anything beyond sew semi-solid seams, he gave up on ever leaving Pacifidlog long ago. Having no reference for what life on the outside was like, he believed it was common to work to death, like those he was surrounded by. _

_On a fateful day, that stupid, useless man halfway to death was met with the first fit of excitement he felt his whole life._

_His eyes first caught the sight of beating wings blurred by the setting sun behind them, casting a shadow down the wooded alley outside of his house. The rancid, rotted boards were soaked with blood, and a scream was echoing off the waves. Mr. Briney approached, joining the crowd that was forming; they weren't ever allowed to form crowds. _

_He soon discovered the source of the disorder. A guard he recognized well, as the man that assaulted his mother on several occasions, shrieked in panic. Atop his back, a Vibrava was tormenting him, buzzing in aggression. To his ankles, a Shelgon, separating his leg. _

_Pokémon. The first trained batch he'd ever seen. The first trainer he'd ever meet. _

_A middle-aged man was shouting to the crowd from the Briney rooftop. His shirtless, sunburnt skin was kept underneath a free-flowing, black jacket with golden trim. The details of his face were largely obscured by a navy cap, stitched and worn atop his head. Beneath a black moustache, he laughed with a level of heart Mr. Briney never heard before. His laugh drowned out the rage and anguish of the guards, being driven off by his Pokémon. _

"_What the hell're you lot doin', wastin' away in Hoenn's backwash?!" The man shouted down to the terrified laborers. "Don'tchu know there's a whole fuckin' ocean to yer backs?! Haven't ya ever gotten sick o' these old sweatshop doldrums?!"_

_The prisoners took the man as reckless, as disrupting the shaky peace they had with the League's guards. But, Mr. Briney was deaf to their judgmental whispers, watching the man on his roof stretch both arms out. _

"_My name is Cap'n Drake! My first love is the sea, and my second is the ship I rode here in! If there's a tired, tortured soul amongst ye ready to leave behind this miserable place, come aboard my crew! We're going on an expedition the mainlanders could only DREAM about!" _

_ Drake's voice barreled outwards across the camp in hopeful invitation. It struck Mr. Briney with the fear of God, staring up at the trainer that was daring enough to dream. The others were too scared to even consider his offer._

_ "Caves of untold riches, under the sea! Legend'ry Pokes, made of stone and steel and ice! Secrets whispered upon Hoenn's sea breeze for millennia! While the League wastes away fillin' their pockets with foreign coins, I'll be the first to leave my mark on these waters!"_

_ His hands clamped into fists as he decreed:_

_ "COME WITH ME! Enjoy the freedom of these seas while the goin' rate's good!"_

_ Drake was exactly what he sounded like. A pirate. _

_ The Hoenn region was only beginning to industrialize, and the world's largest navy had not yet been built. Meaning, in a region that was eighty percent ocean, the sea was a place completely free of Hoenn's influence, including its strict laws. The Pokémon and harsh weather were simply too dangerous to regulate without a proper military. Societal rejects from all around the region jumped at the opportunity to sail at sea under illegal banners. The borders were only closed off to the common man—people with nothing to lose chose a life where they'd never need to set foot on land again, pillaging rivaling factions to keep their boats afloat. Some of them were doing simple mercenary work, others were trading with other regions in every illegal way possible. But there were a few crews looking to fill out the empty spaces, unexplored, across Hoenn's oceans. Drake was one such man. _

_ After the head factory was burnt beyond repair, Mr. Briney was the only person in Pacifidlog brave enough to embark upon Drake's ship. He would sail upon the S.S. Cactus for over a decade. _

_The crew of over eighty members would face many trials in their journey. As readers may have suspected, Drake took interest in discovering the tombs of three legendary Pokémon, reported missing for over a century. Regirock, Regice, and Registeel. They had no reason to believe they would find them—other than a contagious excitement over empty spots on a map, and places people have never traveled before. Discovering almost no clues, they spent most of their time galivanting, drinking themselves silly and passing along any shanty they could recollect. _

_ There were capable trainers in the crew, Drake being the best of the bunch. A majority of the upper echelon brought along seafaring Pokémon, creatures that would be paramount to their survival on the open sea. Mr. Briney never had any ambition for being a trainer; he never took to it, not like he did with his life as a sailor. He was content doing grunt work. And despite that, he and the Captain would grow to become the best of friends. _

_ The best way to describe them would be kindred spirits. Briney was a boy raised in a sweatshop, and Drake was a boy charged with a murder he didn't commit at age sixteen. One fled Pacifidlog, the other Dewford Town. And, though their experiences were worlds apart, they were so similar in age and disposition that it was like discovering a long-lost sibling. _

_ One night, Briney was drinking alongside the Captain in his quarters, after a crew-wide card game had been wrapped up, and the others were asleep. Through cheap rum, honesty bled between them. _

_ "Y'know, Briney," Drake began, balancing himself on the back two legs of his rickety chair. "I'm beginnin' to think the legends were bullshit. Or maybe I'm just facin' the music, now that we're comin' up short."_

_ "You haven't given up hope, have you?" Briney asked with concern. _

_ "Ya won't get a single hint of regret from me, ya old bastard," he chortled back. "I wouldn't trade this voyage for the world. We could look for these legends 'till we're ashes in the deep sea, and it'd've been worth it." _

_It could have been the rum talking, but Briney felt like he was facing the music, too. It was also the first drink that didn't remind him of constantly swaying atop Pacifidlog. _

_ "I'm not afraid of missin' the legend before I die," he admitted to his Captain. "I'm more afraid of goin' back to livin' for nothin'."_

_ Drake cackled, both in humor and empathy._

_ "What's so bad about livin' for nothin'?" He asked. "I've never been happier than when I felt like I'd nothin' left to lose! Bein' lost at sea is was the best years of my life."_

_ "I'll drink to that."_

_ A ringing of clinked glasses echoed in the quarters before another decree from Drake:_

_ "Here's to comin' up short, and bein' the best damn failures Hoenn ever had."_

_ The next morning, Drake would decide to make Mr. Briney first mate of the ship, an honor he would be able to bear for only a single week before disaster struck. _

_ Seafaring Hoenn folk were prepared to die for their lifestyle. There was no law to protect them, and nowhere to hide on open sea. In clashes with rivaling crews, murder was a natural conclusion if sensible deals couldn't be made. One accident on-deck, and a crewman might also be at the mercy of the predators that called the ocean's depths home. Disease was possible to contract and easy to spread on open waters, too. _

_ However, there was something with a much larger death toll for the sailors on the sea. _

_ It was the sea itself. _

_ Mr. Briney remembered how quickly the storm was upon them. No amount of predicting the weather could have prepared them; it felt like an impossible fluke that it started to rain. Like the weather somehow snuck up on them. _

_ And a terrible storm it was. The waves bulged in hills that obscured their view of the horizon, foam pelting the crew like a hail squall. It was impossible to see a few inches beyond their faces, the needles of rain pelting them in the monsoon that crept up on them. The S.S. Cactus was like an ant caught in a high-traffic crosswalk—surrounded by forces too large to resist, too dangerous to interact with. Nowhere to escape. _

_ "Steady!" Drake called to his men. That order would be the last time Mr. Briney would hear his voice._

_The first mate could have sworn that the waves bombarding their ship were pulling people off of the deck intentionally. The seafarers surrounding him would be pelted by the arcing blasts of water, clawed overboard and sunken into the murky depths, never to be seen again. Mr. Briney did the best he could to calm the men, panicked and destitute to their fate; he gagged uncontrollably, the rainfall nearly drowning him. The whining or cracking wooden floorboards sounded underneath him, as the remaining crew were hunched, clinging to anything they could, praying to anything they believed in. _

_ Through the terror of the storm, Mr. Briney made an odd peace amidst the chaos. Somewhere deep down, he believed this death at sea would be fitting for the life he led up until now. Childhood in the sweatshop flashing before his eyes, he thought about how poetic it was that a fluke hurricane would be the death of him. _

_ That was when he heard the horrible roar. _

_ And, he realized this was no fluke hurricane. _

_ The crew never found the three legendary Pokémon they were hoping to discover. Instead, they had an unfortunate encounter with another of Hoenn's legends. _

_ In the eye of the storm, at the center of all the chaotic death surrounding their ship, there was a darkened figure beneath the depths. The visage was large enough to be its own island, fin sprawled across the horizon like in inconceivable wingspan. Briney could only catch glimpses of it amidst the pandemonium on board; he was one of only two survivors who witnessed the figure in the distance. The shadow of a Pokémon, more destructive than anything they could ever dream up in a nightmare, let out the faintest bit of light. Red rings across its obscured skin, accompanying the terrible noise assaulting their senses. _

_ The ground beneath Mr. Briney would soon compromise, tossing him into disarray, losing all sense of direction until a sharp pain guided him into unconsciousness. Several hours would pass before he woke, to discover the fate of his ship. _

_ Clawing his way out of rubble, he found the S.S. Cactus was slain on the open waters, flung into a bed of jagged rocks sticking out of the depths. The ocean was completely calm—the sky the perfect blue it was before they were attacked. But, the ship was beyond repair, a carcass floating on its side, half-submerged and split down the middle._

_ Every room was off-kilter, tilted on an axis. The ship was clinging helplessly to a rock, barely above water. With a weary limp, Briney stumbled his way below deck. Above, he was completely alone; he was the only one that wasn't swept off the ship from the Pokémon's attack. Depending on the perspective, it could be viewed as good luck. _

_ He discovered six dead bodies in the hall, pierced by wooded shrapnel when the ship split down its center. Their empty faces were resting in stagnant water, spilled out from the various holes in the hull. Mr. Briney nearly reeled in disgust in anguish, staring down at the dead bodies of his crew—his friends. But, in his desperation, he pressed onward, in hopes that there were others that survived the terrible ordeal. Someone he could help, or save. _

_ He trekked onwards, only to discover that more than half the ship was underwater. If anyone was trapped down there, they would have drowned by the time he arrived. Before diving down in false hope of finding crewmates, Mr. Briney turned into the only other room above water, a crew's quarters. _

_Briney discovered the only other living person aboard the S.S. Cactus. The youth was a boatswain that Drake picked up sometime after his attack on Pacifidlog. He was hunched behind his bed in utter paranoia of his surroundings, his bunkmate killed somewhere amidst the storm, sprawled across the floor. The surviving boatswain clawed his way across the ground, scurrying like a feral animal, towards the first mate upon seeing him in the doorway. He latched onto Mr. Briney with a death grip. _

"_Oh, God—" the youth was exclaiming. "Oh, God, Briney, did you see that—"_

"_We gotta work through this later, lad," Briney replied, holding the man at bay with a hand over his shoulder. "Is there anyone else alive down here?"_

"_This is… this is God punishin' us."_

"_What are you babblin' on about?! Have you lost your—"_

_Mr. Briney was halted, taken aback by the craze in the young man's eyes. He would later describe the experience, and how he stared into the soul of the devil. There was an evil desperation, as the boy shook from the cold and the pain. Unable to decide on a quivering lip or a monstrous smile, he choked out more rhetoric to the first mate. _

"_My folks told me—they told me, before I left home—God would punish me for stealin'. He'd punish me for stealin' in a big, big way. Briney, I was out here—sailin' the seas with you lot, not scared of God or nothin'— Did you see that THING out in the sea—"_

_Mr. Briney tried to steady him, afraid of what was brewing in the young man's mind. _

"_Archie… get ahold of yerself."_

"_DID YOU SEE THAT THING?!" Archie roared in his face, pointing to the shattered window at the end of his quarters. "IT WAS GOD, YOU OLD FUCK! IT WAS GOD PUNISHIN' ME FOR ALL THE—"_

_With a roar of his own, Mr. Briney shoved the boy back, knocking him over as he tripped atop the rubble. He turtled to a fetal position across the ground sobbing uncontrollably as the first mate tempered his own rage. _

"_I can NOT afford you losin' your mind right now, boy!" He shouted. "I don't care if it was Giratina himself rainin' Hell upon us! Pick yourself up and help me search for the Cap'n!"_

"_Oh, God…" Archie sobbed. "Forgive me, God… I've changed—"_

_In the ensuing days, Mr. Briney would discover thirty-six other members of his crew, all dead in the wreckage, the majority of them bloated under the depths of the S.S. Cactus. There were dozens other that were flung off the ship in the storm at some point. Among them, Captain Drake was unaccounted for, his body nowhere to be seen._

_Briney was unable to believe, stranded at sea without the slightest semblance of hope for survival, that his friend was dead like the rest. He grew crazed in his own way. Despite every sign telling him otherwise, he believed that Drake was alive somewhere. That, thanks to his Pokémon, he somehow survived the terrible storm, and flew off to try and search for help. _

_Archie remained below deck in his room, and he was horrible company in his state. So, after delegating what little supplies were left undamaged aboard the ship, Mr. Briney staked his claim on the upper deck, spending the next few days alone, staring to the horizon. Because of the solitude, he would occasionally speak to himself to keep himself sane. He would assure himself of the same, uncertain fact in every moment of weakness. _

"_The Cap'n'll be back with help soon."_

_Rations wore thin quickly, and desperation along with it. Through pained breaths in a malnourished body, Mr. Briney was awash with every negative emotion, surging in waves with his anxiety. Some days, it was jealousy—he envied the dead. Other days, it was selfishness—and, in moments of weakness, he would go below deck, with the intention of robbing Archie of his rations, and consequent life. But, he would always hear the boy laughing, manically, alone, desperate, wild with life but lost in thoughts, reciting strange phrases. _

"_The sea, the sea, the sea. God loves the sea, so should we."_

_The boy's insanity was enough for the both of them. It would snap Briney out of his mood swings, drown him in regret, and send him back above deck to suffer alone. Sleeping was almost impossible; the chance of someone coming by to save them while they were asleep was soul-crushing. _

_Because he had nothing but time to think about it, Mr. Briney constantly wondered how he got where he was, trapped on a slain ship with no rescue over the horizon. The rickety planks that were a storm away from being compromised swayed with the waves beneath him. He was brought back to his meaningless suffering in Pacifidlog, and the sickening feeling that plagued him as he sewed seams in the camp. Back then, he would have welcomed death more willingly, having no taste for freedom and the boundless outdoors. But, thanks to the foolish Captain filling his heads with dreams, he was less willing to die than he had ever been. Miserable, starving, hallucinating, he suffered aboard the deck, cursing himself with boundless hours passing for daring to dream in the first place. _

_Only one outcome seemed possible—starvation._

_But, in the face of certain death, the first sign of life arrived at the shipwreck. _

_Perched on the edge above where Briney was prone across the ground, fatigued and weary, a Pokémon looked upon him. The creature's webbed feet clung to the edge of the deck, eyes intent on watching the suffering human. White wings folded neatly on its sides, the Wingull appeared more docile than the sea-birds Briney was used to seeing on the open ocean. Most of them wouldn't dare get near a sailor, lest they became their next meal. _

_Mr. Briney saw the Oran Berry pressed within the Wingull's beak, and laughed at the thought: two meals for the price of one. _

_He nearly willed himself to reach for the Wingull, to snap its neck, start a fire and share their first solid meal in a week with Archie below deck. But, moments later, he was grateful that he was too weak to react in time. _

_The Wingull dropped the berry into his hands, flying off a moment later. _

_He was flabbergasted, but melancholy soon overtook any emotion as he scarfed down the berry with the haste of a feral beast. On some miraculous chance, a Pokémon delivered him food. Great, he thought, one more day to suffer for me. _

_He thought that, until the Wingull returned the next day. _

_Passing along a second batch of berries (which Archie was able to get a share of), the Pokémon stayed to watch Mr. Briney eat it gratefully. The former first mate, who never thought twice about the pesky birds that stained the ship with their excrement, found his heart filled with appreciation for whatever divine intervention led the Wingull to his plight. Unable to speak to a Pokémon he didn't possess within a Pokéball, Mr. Briney was unable to thank the wayward bird. Although, even if he could, his sobs would prevent words altogether. _

_He never did anything to deserve the Wingull's mercy. He thought back on his life, and couldn't recall a single good deed he performed since he was born. And yet, he was saved by a random act of grace from a Pokémon no more important than those that could be found on an insignificant route across Hoenn._

_Through this harrowing ordeal, Mr. Briney grew to despise the sea in his exile; Archie turned to the opposite direction, to fanatic worship of the sea. The Wingull taught the old man that the sea was somewhere in the middle—it was neither evil nor good. Freedom of the sea meant an existence in nature, where everything was subject to the ecosystem surrounding the continent of Hoenn. While one Pokémon would defend its territory and destroy their vessel, another would share food on instinct. _

_The third day the Wingull visited the shipwreck, Briney got to thinking. Not only was the Wingull's behavior strange, but its existence in the middle of the ocean would be impossible. It was impossible for them to fly for a full day; the birds needed to roost on land at some point. That meant there was land nearby. And, with land, people. _

_Mr. Briney could only pray that those people would be as kind as the Wingull. _

_Before the bird embarked for the third day in a row, Mr. Briney tied a message to its leg; though he never learned to write, he desperately drew what little he understood of the map tey traveled upon. The message disclosed the fate of the ship, its location in open ocean, all drawn distressfully. It was a shot in the dark, no less uncertain than sending a messenger to God, waiting to hear back. The Wingull flew off across the pinkish sunset splashing the horizon like a pastel seascape._

_On the fourth day, the Wingull returned. And, she didn't return alone. _

_With a Wailmer as his footing through the rough ocean terrain, a trainer rode out to sea after receiving the Wingull's message. In older times, Wingull were the messengers of the region, and delivered news across the sea to the countless islands dotted on Hoenn's map. Raised to be friendly towards humans, one decided on pure whim and coincidence to deliver food from a nearby island to the castaways. It delivered Mr. Briney's message in return, to a young upstart trainer named Juan. He arrived hours before the pair would have died. _

_Briney and Archie hopped atop the trainer's Pokémon, never so happy to see another seafarer they were unfamiliar with. Both celebrated in completely different ways; the seclusion only served to drive them apart, rather than closer together. Archie fell to his knees, praising the sea he chose to worship with a promise that he'd return the favor a thousandfold. For Mr. Briney, he was more intent on thanking the Wingull than the passing trainer. _

_When they returned to the mainland, everyone parted ways, except for Peeko, the name the old man chose for his savior. The pair became fiercely loyal to each other, inseparable the moment they set foot on land. They shared an unspeakable bond; despite never being able to speak to one another, they were closer than any trainer's team. And, while the harrowing adventure that was Mr. Briney's life would complicate his feelings on the sea, it would only embolden his will to live, leading him to a life of solitude on the edge of the coast outside of Petalburg City. He chose to retire, as a sweatshop worker, as a pirate, as a first mate, and as a trainer, dulling his life to peace instead._

* * *

_Mr. Briney's tale was of great importance to me, and I was grateful that Steven shared it. But, I fear to inform the readers of this journal that I misunderstood the point when he first shared the story._

_In our search across the Hoenn region for legendary Pokémon, I thought he was giving me a lead on someone who had a first-hand experience with Kyogre. I thought this meant we were so much closer to our goal than I thought. But, when I said that, Steven simply laughed. _

"_I'm afraid Mr. Briney will be of no use to us," he said. "This story came directly from his mouth. Beyond what I've told you, he hasn't the slightest clue what happened to him that day."_

_Perplexed, I had to ask:_

"_Then, why do you think he's worth watching?"_

"_I watch all trainers of importance," he smiled. "It's best to know the allies and threats out there in the world. Mr. Briney makes it on the list—though, I'm not sure which he'd be."_

"_How could an old man with a Wingull pose any threat to you?"_

_He shook his head, like he understood a universe of knowledge I was blind to. _

"_You would underestimate Mr. Briney so easily? A man who has spent thirty years training a Wingull, and a Wingull alone? The League is lucky to have forgotten all about him—if he had a heart for battling, he would be a match for the top brass in Hoenn."_

* * *

On the same morning that Jade challenged the Leader of the Rustboro Gym, Mr. Briney, age seventy, went into Petalburg City to restock his shelves.

With seldom a heart for society, it was rare to find him anywhere with a high traffic of people. His feet strode across the ground over sandals weaved with the straw growing outside his cottage, robe-like wear popular among sailors wrapped from his waist. Attention directed straight toward the PokéMart in the center of the city, he paid no mind to the passerbys—of which, there were many wary folks.

News of Mr. Briney's exploits as a sailor passed along the beaches he lived as half-truths and hyperbole. Most people were uncertain of anything beyond his name. Plenty believed anything they heard about his life, no matter how ridiculous the gossip was. He possessed a certain infamy about him, something Briney himself wasn't fully aware of. As far as they were concerned, he should be nothing but a lonely old man living on Route 104. Anything they heard about were from tall tales, whispers on the wind that no one could confirm as true.

But, when you're someone who _may _have seen a legendary Pokémon in your life, people start to notice, for better or worse, when you stroll into town.

The children huddled out of school, and curious homeowners peered through their windows. Inside the Mart was no better for poor old Briney, who was just making his monthly trip for food hoping to skip out on crowds with his early-morning trek. He didn't hate people on principle, but was so accustomed to being alone. That, and it was clear on everyone's faces; no matter their age, people would pass along the same expectant expression when Mr. Briney strolled into Petalburg.

Everyone was so desperate to ask him questions about the moment in his life he tried his best to forget.

It would have been a simple feat to carry a single person's worth of food back to the cottage—it was the added berries for Peeko that were giving Mr. Briney trouble, as he exited the Mart. He refused all help like the prideful old man he was, despite the baskets fumbling between his arms awkwardly. There was no room to complain about Peeko in his heart, however; he created a monster, spoiling it rotten for the past twenty years. It was the least he could have done to repay the Pokémon he owed his life to.

They coexisted better than most married couples. Peeko and Briney made for interesting company; they weren't able to speak to one another, but they had an understanding beyond what words could produce. It was a bond seldom seen in even the most seasoned trainers that trusted their partner Pokémon with their lives. Like most Pokémon, Peeko was content being fed and housed in a safe environment.

The gratitude was completely skewed in her favor. Mr. Briney was saved by Peeko, but it wasn't just a matter of past deeds. She was the reason he wasn't completely alone in the world; returning to society was an impossible task after his rescue. He remained isolated by the sea, with no family to his name. If it weren't for a companion Pokémon, he'd have gone mad from having no one to talk to long before he was worn down by old age.

It wasn't a past debt he owed to Peeko. He owed Peeko for every day of his life, for being a constant, joyous presence in what was a rocky first few acts.

Peeko's oddly docile nature faded over the years. She was still undoubtedly friendly towards humans, which was fostered by the intense care Briney took of her. Beyond that, she was trained and nurtured on Route 104 most of her life, only embarking out to sea with her trainer for fishing endeavors. She was mostly well-behaved.

Mostly.

The first sign of something amiss were the sprinkles of rain doting themselves across Mr. Briney's world-weary forehead. They were fleeting at first, turning to a steady downfall only seconds later. Passerbys scurried into their home, caught and drenched by the sudden squall. They complained about the misfortune—the forecast didn't call for any rain that morning. But, they understood that living in Hoenn meant sudden shifts in weather were par for the course, and thought nothing more of it.

Whether it was from caution or focus, Mr. Briney noticed more than the average Petalburg-dweller.

He possessed a sixth sense about storms, with his years of experience on open ocean long past him. His grasp on the region's forecasts would make Mossdeep scientists envious; it wasn't from any form of study, but pure instinct. That, and his old bones would usually warn him when a storm was brewing on the horizon. For these reasons, Mr. Briney did something simple, something no one else out and about that morning did.

He looked up, to see a clear, cloudless sky above.

It wasn't the weather; the rain came from something else.

Immediately, he knew it was a Pokémon's ability activating.

The revelation hastened his pace out of Petalburg, hustling towards his cottage on-route with rapid speed for any other elderly folk. Mr. Briney was in excellent shape for his age; he had his lifetime of labor to thank for that. While he hurried home, he was mainly annoyed at what the source of the rain was. Something he wished he didn't have to handle.

That emotion soon turned to worry, when he arrived upon the wreckage that was once his home. The broad side facing the ocean was in complete shambles, wooden planks strewn across the beach. Despite the endless patchwork Briney put into keeping rain out of the roof, it was pouring through the craters formed in the shingles, splintered in jagged edges. Faced with the destruction of his home, his steady pace was hurried, groceries dropped to both sides as he made a mad dash for the cottage.

Mr. Briney feet pressed against the sand in his hastened pace, and he recognized that there was hardly any resistance. Looking across the beach, he halted in his tracks, noticing that the entire beach was soaked as well. Holes in the sand collected puddles.

The closer Briney got to his home, the easier it was to tell—all of the water came from his cottage. It flowed out like a river, spilling into the sea westward.

Approaching the entrance, he encountered the first body, strewn across the floor.

His suspicions were fully-realized; it was an unconscious Team Aqua member, flung across his back outside of the cottage, nearly floating in the flowing water underneath him. With a scoff, Mr. Briney pressed on, seeing two other bodies in the opening broken into the siding, clinging onto the sides of the hole as the deluge spilled out from inward. Stepping inside, the old man was already ankle-deep in the wash.

The wreckage was akin to a hurricane sight, belongings floating in the flood pooling above the wooden flooring of his cottage. There were more grunts, six in total, scattered around the room, piled over the tables and shelves of his one-room home. Pokéballs floated helplessly all around them. Mr. Briney was furious; he was aware that Team Aqua was full of maniacs. Maniacs that lived nearby, performing hidden antics somewhere in Petalburg Woods. But, in his solitude, he chose to ignore them unless they encroached on his property. He was certain that would have been enough to scare the youths off.

But, it clearly wasn't. They were too crazed to abide by simple warnings. They waited for him to leave that morning to raid his home.

Just as Mr. Briney feared that there would be no target for his rage, and was left to clean up their mess—a head rose from the flooded home, spitting up a foam of the water drowning him moments prior. In a panic, the grunt choked for air, and Mr. Briney waded his way towards the defenseless fool. The old man picked the grunt up by the back of his shirt, like a beast carrying its cub by the scruff of its neck. He watched as the grunt's life returned to his eyes, regaining his bearings.

"I warned ya," Mr. Briney told him. "You n' your friends. I told 'em all to stay away. But ya couldn't help yourselves, could ya?"

The grunt responded through a hacking, wet laugh.

"Old bastard…"

Briney shook him, stirring his dizziness.

"Ya figured an old man cooped up outside o' town would have a pretty penny for you lot to steal? Bit off a bit more than ya could chew, wouldn't ya say?"

"You don't scare me," the grunt responded with a fire to his eyes—an all-too-familiar fire to Mr. Briney. "How could you? The enemies of the sea can't even touch me."

"You don't know the first thing about the sea, lad."

"No, no—_you're the one who's clueless—_" gritting his teeth, the grunt's seething anger was extinguished by the sudden pain surging up his spine, forcing his head to cock back. Still, he kept a smirk. "You thought we were trying to _rob _you? This wasn't ever about the money."

The remark warranted another spike of worry within Mr. Briney. Quickly, he scanned his home, checking every corner, before finally focusing on the empty bird cage at the top of the shelf beside his bed.

"What have ya done to Peeko?"

"Wouldn't _you _like to know—"

The grunt was dropped back into the wash, head knocked against the wooden planks. Mr. Briney's attention was already off him, heading towards the exit.

"Well, ya clearly didn't have the gumption to kill her," he remarked. "And the old girl doesn't listen to anyone else. My best guess is ya had to've put her to sleep somehow."

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" The Team Aqua member called.

"After I pass this off to Norman, you mean?" He turned back in the doorway (or, what was once a doorway). "Follow the trail of destruction. Find Peeko. Bring 'er back and collect whatever bounty ya offer."

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think you can keep that _thing _tamed."

With what little strength his body would offer, the grunt erratically pointed at the surroundings in a rage-induced rant.

"_Look _at what it did!" He screamed. "That bird you call a pet is a _monster_! You think you can tame the sea's majestic beasts?! The ocean's treasures don't belong to any man, let alone an old one ready to die any day now!"

Mr. Briney could only shake his head and smile in pity.

"Lad," he replied. "I'm the one that raised Peeko. Ya don't think I know how much of a treasure she is?"

Although the old man was already leaving, the grunt was shouting his rhetoric—well aware that it fell upon deaf ears.

"You'll rue the day! Once we return the region's Pokémon to the sea, we'll see who's high and mighty then! The day draws near—the Ark is upon us—"

The voice trailed off as Mr. Briney headed off, making good of his threats before embarking northward, following the flooding that led all the way into Petalburg Woods. Though the grunts in his cottage were well under his attention, he was worried, being separated from Peeko. He was well aware of the threat his Wingull imposed—unlike the grunts who attempted to capture her. Assuming she was asleep, Briney had to hurry; if she woke up, panicked, in a populated area, it could end in a disaster he wasn't prepared to handle. And so, for the first time in decades, he was headed towards somewhere outside of the doldrums of his retired life.

The self-ascribed best failure of Hoenn arrived to Rustboro City.


	11. Part Nine: The Wingull

**Chapter Nine: The Wingull**

* * *

Ever since leaving Littleroot, I've been nothing _but _careful what I wished for. As much as I wanted to get away from Brendan, city-wide havoc wasn't what I had in mind.

I was escorted out of Devon Corporation's main building, observing the pandemonium across the entire business district. Workers fled from building to building, trying to get out off the street. The lavish fountain I was meant to marvel at earlier was ruined, still spilling water outward in all the wrong directions, filling in the cracks between concrete tiles. Outside, I could hear the alarms of all the buildings, echoing off each other through the rows of edifices.

The Devon employee escorted me to safety outside of headquarters—likely because he expected me to want to escape Team Aqua's raid on Rustboro City. But, despite all the research Devon did on me, they had no clue about the score I needed to settle. This wouldn't be Petalburg Woods, part two. I strode out of the business district, with no cultist in sight. Headed westward, trying to think over the points of interest in Rustboro before deciding on the University.

The streets were filled with gossip; news hadn't broke of Team Aqua's invasion to the commuters and passerbys across Rustboro. I was intent on neglecting the topic, in favor of a hasty charge towards the college gates.

Students were standing outside, accompanied by officers of the law, writing reports from the kids' hasty stories. I imagined the fear I felt in the Woods, surrounded by the carcasses Team Aqua left strewn across the ground. I saw that fear across their faces. Their stories were panicked whispers, but they were too worried to quiet themselves to a level I couldn't overhear upon passing them.

Their Pokémon were stolen. Right from their dorms, underneath their noses. While they were in classrooms, doing their best to learn how to be proper trainers, Team Aqua broke into the school and took everything they could. Upon a more focused glance, I actually recognized a few of the faces—students I fought to face Roxanne.

Without a further thought, fueled by fury and empathy, imagining if my Pokémon were the ones taken away, I stormed onto campus. The disorder was clear right away, the chaos almost apocalyptic. Retracing my steps from my journey across the university a week prior, I found myself headed towards the building I first made my Gym challenge.

I reminded myself, on my march to face off against Team Aqua—I wasn't the only one that had a vendetta against them. All they did to me was harm my pride. My Tailow's _home_ was taken.

"Apache," I spoke up. "If they're still here, let's knock some heads."

With the proclamation, I retrieved his Pokéball off my belt, wading through the chaotic flees of the students, towards the eye of the storm. But, struck with a bout of confusion, I struggled to release him from the device; the button refused to be pressed down. Perplexed, I assumed Apache was avoiding his entrance.

"What's wrong?" I followed up, wary of being defenseless, backing up against the corner of a classroom building.

"_I don't know, Jade—_" he said, a struggle to his tone. "_As much as I'd love to break out and teach these bastards a lesson, I'm locked in. This thing won't let me out._"

Immediately, a feeling was triggered. It was the shame and embarrassment I felt in Petalburg City, storming into the Gym to challenge Norman. Throwing a tantrum, reaching for my Pokéball only for it to refuse my Pokémon. All because Norman's Pokémon were that much stronger. Logically, that could only mean one thing.

There was a trainer nearby far more powerful than me.

At that moment, I heard a familiar voice around the corner.

"Just what do you vagabonds think you're accomplishing here?"

Curiosity piqued, I tried to turn my attention to the school grounds behind me, keeping pressed against the wall and out of sight. Sure enough, Roxanne was there, standing in the center of the walkway—surrounded. Six people, all wearing Team Aqua garb, encircled the Gym Leader, Pokéballs in hand, imposing themselves with a steady approach towards the trap they set.

"You lot are nothing but the distraction," Roxanne said. "The thieves have already fled. Tell me—this cause you're fighting for. Is it worth being locked up for the rest of your lives? That's what your actions imply."

"Don't lecture us!" One of the grunts barked back. "Your false teachings fall upon deaf ears, land-dweller. The League is our greatest enemy—you're the reason Hoenn is headed towards its doomsday!"

Team Aqua was as impossible to reason with as I remembered. Worried they had the jump on Roxanne, I was ready to spring into action to help, even if it was only as a distraction. But, that was when I noticed the Leader was far from alone on her side of the field; there was a Pokémon beside her.

I spent most my childhood hitting the books, learning about all the Pokémon someone could find in Hoenn. I hate to admit, whatever Pokémon was by Roxanne's side, I had never seen before. It was slightly off-putting, similar to the Nosepass that met its match against Willow. Similar… but much larger.

I was left to assume it was an evolved form. And, likely the Pokémon powerful enough to keep mine locked up.

Before Team Aqua made their move, Roxanne commanded her Pokémon with a snap of her fingers, and a declaration that their ceasefire was over.

"I tire of your baseless rhetoric. Probopass."

The Pokémon beside her glowed with a familiar hue, commanding a magnetic force similar to the Nosepass we fought against in the Gym. Suddenly, there was a pull towards it, and I felt the muscles in my wrist tense up. Using what strength I could muster, I dragged Apache's Pokéball back towards me—I was just out of range of her attack. But, with an admiration, I watched the Pokéballs fly off of the grunts surrounding her, ripped from their persons, clung to Roxanne's Pokémon. She successfully disarmed them.

Her final command was posh, like she was annoyed that it took so long to deal with the six trainers crowding around her.

"Thunder Wave."

Sparks streaked off the strange Pokémon's body, crackling through the air before suddenly dispersing off the creature's form. The shock creeped across the ground, spreading its influence beneath the school grounds before reaching the helpless grunts. The attack struck them, seizing their muscles, weakening their legs and causing the entire crowd to collapse. They were tossed across the ground, frozen like statues, unable to so much as blink.

With the situation defused, I felt comfortable making myself known to the Gym Leader, stepping out from behind the building. As I approached, I stared down at the humiliated grunts, who couldn't even afford a scowl my direction after Roxanne's attack. Apache was pleased, his secondhand pride at their defeat palpable from his Pokéball. Roxanne acknowledged my presence, hand to her hip.

"We seem to only meet at our busiest times, Jade."

With a smirk as best I could manage, I was trying to shake the memory of Norman, and _his _imposing Pokémon, standing before me.

"You seem stumped," Roxanne followed up, palm pressed against the side of her companion Pokémon. "You didn't think I would use my _real _team against a trainer without a single badge, did you?"

"Honestly, I think I'm lucky you had to go easy on me…" I admitted.

"Don't sell yourself short. I imagine I would have met my match if you were six or seven badges in. I count _myself _lucky."

Nodding in acknowledgement of the compliment, I turned my attention to the rest of the campus scanning the horizon. It was a safe bet there were more than six grunts causing a panic in Rustboro, and I was still ready for action.

"You think I could help calm things down?" I asked her.

"Actually, I have a better idea," she answered. "Rustboro is my responsibility. I can lock the city down, but it will take my full attention. Most their forces are running around the city trying to keep our focus off the stolen Pokémon. If you wouldn't mind… there's a route to the northeast that they've fled to. Do you think you could track them down?"

"Of course," I accepted.

"I'll head there with as many trainers as I can muster, once things are under control. Any trainer bearing my badge should be able to hold her own against these idiots. But don't do anything out of your depth out there."

* * *

Every time I made it to new territory, I tried to take in the surroundings as much as I could; something about being stuck in one place for six years helped me appreciate seeing new places and people. But, I couldn't afford to dawdle my way through the route west of Rustboro. Not with people's Pokémon at stake.

I was only able to notice sparse details—the first being a sign at the edge of the city, designating the frontier forward as Route 116. Ahead, I saw trees branching the path forward into a fork, which made me worry. If I took the wrong turn, I could go the opposite direction of wherever the grunts ran off to. Luckily, before I reached the choice, there were patches of dirt housing berries, surrounded by a group of gossiping trainers. Their usual routine of challenges was interrupted by the pandemonium plaguing Rustboro and its surrounding routes. Since they were unsure of what was going on, they stood no chance at trying to stop it; but, they passed along valuable information to me, giving me a decent idea of where Team Aqua ran off to.

"I saw a group of them running off ahead," one of them explained, giving me a general direction to aim towards. "Maybe a dozen? They were all in a crowd, carrying tons of Pokéballs in their arms. It was straight out of a comedy act."

Wishing I could share in the humor of the image, I thanked the onlookers, relying on my Running Shoes to help me catch up to the crowd of grunts ahead. I blazed down the path, out of sight from the others, weaving through the patches of grass and avoiding the hilly terrain to my left.

It's easier to admit after the fact that I didn't have much of a game plan. I was told to chase the grunts—and I wanted to anyway—so, I did. There wasn't any coherent thought process motivating my movements, though. I wasn't sure what I'd do when I came across them. A little elbow grease and courage was enough to get out of danger in Petalburg Woods, but a dozen grunts felt like too many to handle on my own. At best, I wanted to slow them down, distract them from any goal beyond escaping with the stolen Pokémon. If that meant throwing myself into danger, it wouldn't be the first time.

In tense situations, I was more thankful than ever to have my companion Pokémon. Especially when Spike, my Poochyena, halted my mad dash forward with a warning.

"_Jade, I hear voices ahead._"

I skidded to a halt, taking cover behind the trunk of a tree. She couldn't see or smell much from her Pokéball—but, Spike's hearing was the best in the party, even when she was cooped away in the capsule. After a momentary silence in my approach, I overheard the echoes of voices in the distance, too. Judging that it would be safe to approach closer, I proceeded forward, careful with my steps between trees to avoid any precarious footholds that would divulge my stealthing ahead. It was essential to be surgical, since I wasn't sure just how many grunts I would be descending upon.

Taking an observant stance of the clearing ahead, my knees bent as I squinted from cover to see the unfolding situation. Perhaps luckily, I could only see three grunts; they were surrounding something, just like how they encircled Roxanne back in Rustboro. Pack tactics must be a part of their religion. Their Pokémon were standing beside them, poised to attack at a moment's notice.

I liked my odds against only three. But, my assault was halted after I noticed an oddity—they weren't surrounding and threatening a person. There was a small, pinkish doughy ball of a creature, trapped by the humans encroaching on it. No taller than knee-height, it sheepishly shivered, arms retracted to its body and tall, long ears bent and clamped over the top of its head. I was glad to see my years of research didn't fail me twice in the same day. I recognized this Pokémon. Whismur.

As I reached for a Pokéball, preparing to strike, I overheard the grunts conversing.

"We shouldn't be wasting time on this thing!" One of them argued. "We let the others get so far ahead of us—we're supposed to convene in Verdanturf—"

"Don't be so cold," another said. From their imposing voice and posture, they appeared as the leader of this bunch. "Look at it—the poor creature is defenseless! Do you really want to abandon it with the rest when the Great Flood comes?"

"Well, no, but…"

"You remember what Archie told us—collect a pair of every Pokémon you can, across the whole region. Any Pokémon that can't fend for itself when the sea claims Hoenn once again. If we take this thing with us, we'll be preserving an entire _species_!"

I was perplexed beyond action by their brief talk—speaking so casually about an entire continent being destroyed. Insane rhetoric was par for the course with Team Aqua, but hearing it stated so blatantly was unsettling. It was past understanding how they believed some sort of great doomsday was over the horizon. It explained why they were acting so haphazardly. As far as you could apply reason to them, anyway.

Regardless of what they believed (which felt like nonsense by itself), their tactics were dangerous, and there was no guarantee they wouldn't hurt the poor Whismur. Besides, I came all this way to stop them from taking any more Pokémon, so it was within my own self-interest to jump them and stop any further misdeeds.

The grunts spouted plenty of claims that sounded false. But, the one thing they were definitely wrong about was the Whismur being defenseless.

Maybe it was because I read about them before. Maybe that made me ready, at least subconsciously, for what would happen next. I watched the Whismur's ears release themselves from the sides of its head, revealing two openings above its eyes. A faint whistle made its way across the breeze, as air was blowing through them. The Whismur's expression tensed; and, instinctively, I covered my ears.

Still, my head spun from the violent, deafening squeal.

The leaves and branches surrounding me in my cover were unsettled, like a twister blew through the route. My sight of the clearing was distorted by the force of the sound bellowing out from the small creature. I watched the grunts, danger-close to the scream, blasted off their feet, writhing on the ground from the shock and pain of the attack. By the time I could grit my teeth and regain my bearings, their Pokémon had already fled, abandoning them in fear for their own lives.

It hurt beyond belief, but I couldn't move. It sounded like someone was playing an instrument wrongly, like a rookie scraping and scratching a stringed instrument magnified a thousand times. In my spotted vision, I tried reaching for my Pokémon, senses being assaulted by the cornered Whismur in the clearing. From this far away, it hurt so much; I couldn't _dare _get closer.

"_What the hell is that…?! Make it stop!_" Willow called from his Pokéball. Even though it should have been impossible to hear anything beyond the scream, my Pokémon's voices were in my head. And my voice, in theirs.

"We need to calm it down…!" It felt strange that my shouts could be heard, even when I couldn't hear myself at my maximum volume. "One of you needs to get close!"

"_Like hell that's happening!_" Willow shouted back. "_That thing's giving me a migraine from this damn ball—I'm not going out there!_"

"_Sorry, Jade—_" Spike spoke up, struggling. "_My ears are working against me here… I would never get close enough to stop that thing!_"

"We need to do something about it!" I yelled, vision tunneling under great duress. "Can't anyone get in there quick enough to stop it without getting hurt?!"

"_Send me out, Jade. I can do it._"

I was stunned to hear Geisha volunteer herself. Ever since becoming a Cascoon, she refused to leave her Pokéball, even for training. We had so seldom heard her voice these past few weeks, that hesitation caught me.

"Geisha, are you sure?"

"_Hon—you might want to take the help before I change my mind,_" she answered, as boisterous as she'd been since changing from a Wurmple. "_This silk I'm cooped up in is muffling the sound quite nicely. Gimme a good toss, and I'll muzzle this screecher._"

As intrigued as I was in Geisha's sudden inspiration to help the team, I was more eager to stop the horrible noise assaulting the route. Mustering whatever energy I had left, I turned towards the Whismur, mouth agape in its piercing shriek. I exerted myself, feeling the twist in my shoulder as I lobbed my Cascoon's Pokéball towards the cornered creature, releasing my Pokémon into the fray.

Geisha could only vaguely control the cocoon she was holed up in. Whatever approach she would have taken on her own would have been incredibly sluggish. But, in my desperation, the Pokéball's aim was true, and Geisha was falling directly on top of the Whismur. The silky figure descended upon the Pokémon, collapsing it to the floor of the route, the destructive noise immediately muffled.

The struggle was barely audible—but, with the noise calming itself across the route, I was able to better focus on the battle at hand. I noticed brief bursts of air inflating the silk cocoon surrounding Geisha. But, her weight was enough to keep the Whismur pinned to the ground, using her poison to hasten the process. Eventually, the resistance was silenced, and the bomb of noise was finally defused.

I was on my way to congratulate Geisha for her victory when a dense light blinded my approach. It was a sudden, familiar flash that filled me with excitement. I couldn't wait for my surroundings to dim, so I could see the fruits of my Cascoon's labor.

Where my Pokémon once sat atop the Whismur, there was an insect-like creature with a body as big as my head, lavender with yellow, filtered eyes. Its wings were broad, a green crescent behind her figure, housing bright red spots resembling a monstrous face, to ward predators away. Geisha was as surprised at what happened as the rest of us.

I couldn't believe it. The second evolution on the team, and it was Geisha _again_. She was finally fully-realized, a Dustox.

"Geisha, that was brilliant," I affirmed, heading over to her with a warm smile. "You did such a good job—and look at you now!"

Though it didn't brighten the mood any more, Geisha returned to her more subdued disposition. Before I could prattle on about how proud I was, she sent herself back into her Pokéball to hide from the outside once more.

"_You're too sweet, Jade,_" she said quietly. "_My days in the spotlight are long-gone. But I was happy to help._"

Before anything else, I needed to keep focused on our surroundings. Just so I was certain that there wasn't any immediate danger, I made sure the grunts were all unconscious, which was a successful endeavor. Next, I turned my attention to the Whismur, knocked out cold across the ground. It was a wild beast, like any other we fought along the routes. But, I knew if we left it as it was, it would inevitably succumb to my Pokémon's poison. So, I thought—_why not_?

Reaching into my bag to grab one of the countless Antidotes I stocked myself with, I began the healing process for the wild Pokémon. I knew I was on borrowed time with the hostage crisis, but life took precedent. As I tended to the Whismur, I overheard my Pokémon's conversation in the background.

"_That was an impressive showing,_" Apache, my Tailow, said. "_I wasn't sure you had any fight in you. Haven't seen you in action since I joined the team._"

"_Oh, no need for flattery…_" Geisha responded with modesty. "_I'm afraid you won't see much of me. There's not much help this team needs that a Dustox can offer._"

"_I beg to differ,_" he answered back. "_Any Pokémon that's evolved this early, twice… you might just be the strongest of this ragtag group._"

"_Ah, w-well—I don't know about all that…_"

Before long, the Whismur was brought back to consciousness, coughing itself back to a steady breathing. I could tell, looming over it, that it was still shaken from the harrowing encounter it just had. To spare myself the trouble of another screaming fit, I tapped a Pokéball into its side. Somewhere amidst the fight, I decided that I wanted to bring the little thing along. Probably when I saw how scared it was, being cornered by Team Aqua. That was familiar to me.

"_…oh… what happened to me…?_"

I was shocked. The young, girlish voice was so quiet in my ear, like a weary whisper. It fit her appearance, but I knew the Whismur was capable of much, much more noise. There was a hoarse nature to her words, too; screaming so loudly must have taken its toll.

"_Glad to see you're doing better now, dear,_" Geisha welcomed the Whismur to the group. "_Sorry for being so harsh with you. I thought this whole posse would go deaf if I didn't do something about your tantrum._"

"_…it's okay…_" The Whismur peeped. "_i just get so worked up when humans try to catch me… those ones were pretty awful… but you saved me… you must be nice…_"

"Jade. Nice to meet you."

"_… hi jade. I don't have a name to give to you…_"

"You do now. Welcome to the team, Vocaloid."

"_…oh… i never thought that would be my name…_"

"Uh, well—I hope you can live with it."

I thought I might fall asleep listening to her mumble through her words, so I tried to remain on-task. Peering over to the grunts, it was clear that I wasn't going to get any answers out of them. My best bet was asking Vocaloid what she knew.

"Do you know anything about these men?"

"_… not a lot…_" she answered slowly. "_there were a bunch of them a little bit ago… they were headed towards my old home…_"

"Your old home?"

"_…yeah… an old tunnel full of pokémon just like me… hundreds in my pack… for some reason, they were running there…_"

If Team Aqua was hiding out in a cave, that could only complicate the process. I had plenty of information to send back to Roxanne in Rustboro, and I could have waited for backup. But, it would have felt like a half-assed job if I headed back now. Instead, I wanted results. I was tired of letting those grunts cause a ruckus without doing anything to stop it.

"Vocaloid," I said. "Could you lead me to your old home?"

"…_sure… it's kinda dangerous, though…_"

I was prepared to get going, eager to end this squabble with Team Aqua. But, there would be one final distraction before I could embark on the quest. Despite how careful I was, I didn't notice that I wasn't alone.

"Hey—you there!"

It was an old voice. For a second, I thought I recognized it, before deciding that it was either a stranger, or someone I met who hadn't left a lasting impression. Turning to face them, I learned that the latter was true. It was the old man who kicked me off the beach on Route 104. The one that warned me about Team Aqua in the first place. I took him as a crochety fellow stuck in his ways, so it surprised me that he was so far away from Petalburg City. I was taken aback, seeing his face again; I was even more confused why he didn't seem to be shaken by the grunts at my feet.

"You're the lass who was trespassin' at my place not a month ago," he recognized me, too. "What the hell're you doin' this far out here?"

"My name is Jade," I added. "I'm a trainer, so I get out a lot. You might want to be careful. It's not safe around here. These idiots are causing people problems, and I'm trying to put a stop to it—"

The whole time I spoke, I wondered if he was listening. His attention was elsewhere, but I could tell it wasn't a senile response to the conversation. He was focused on the grunts at my feet finally, then towards the path behind me, the rest of the route I hadn't taken yet. Before addressing any of my concerns, he extended a hand towards me. I shook it on impulse; his hands showed his age more than anything else, calloused and wrinkled.

"The name's Mr. Briney," he said. "I'm out here _because _these dolts are causin' problems. They stole my darlin' Peeko from right under my nose."

"Oh—I'm so sorry to hear that."

"I've tracked 'em this far. The only place those rats could be hidin' is Rusturf Tunnel, up ahead. I was watchin' you handle those grunts from the trees, lass… seein' how my Pokémon got taken, I find myself at the mercy of nature out here. You wouldn't mind keepin' this old man safe on his trip to the Tunnel?"

The offer bothered me. I couldn't imagine travelling all the way out here without a Pokémon—whoever this old man was, he was needlessly endangering himself. Although, I did have a great deal of sympathy for him. His Pokémon was stolen. I would have done the same in his shoes, if that happened to me.

I've never had much manners to spare for my elders, and it was likely I would offend Mr. Briney before this journey was over. But, I didn't see much choice in the matter. I led the way, my pace much slower than when I was traveling alone. The latter half of the route was much more mountainous, the pathway turning from grass and dirt to stone. Now that I was trekking at a more patient pace, I was able to more thoroughly prepare myself for the remaining grunts we would have to face. But, I found my thought process stunted by the old man—someone I would have never expected to be such a conversationalist.

"My Peeko's the light of this world," he prattled on. "She's a cutesy lil Wingull I befriended on the open sea. She's the sweetest creature you'll ever meet."

"I'm sure she is."

"The friendliest feller. If ya had a berry on ya, she'd eat it right out of your hand. She's a great fishin' companion, too—"

"…_wait… jade?_"

Vocaloid spoke up again. I didn't know which I had more trouble conversing with—my Whismur or the old man.

"…_these stolen pokémon are being taken to my old home…? that's kinda bad… my old pack is really mean to outsiders…_"

"Hold on, what do you mean?"

"… _it's kind of a harsh place… not a lot of food, and they fight all the time… i was kicked out because i was brining the pack down with how weak i am…_"

"Seriously…?" I halted our approach towards the tunnel. Mr. Briney turned to face me, and I swear he recognized that I was speaking with my Pokémon without any explanation whatsoever. "Vocaloid—your scream knocked three grown men unconscious. You're telling me that you're considered _weak_ in your pack?"

"…_yeah… i'm like the runt or whatever…_"

Tension suddenly rose within me. I pictured the three grunts surrounding my newly-caught Whismur, and how poorly they handled trying to capture the wild creature. At every turn, they were boorish and harsh towards the nature surrounding them. Their rampage through Rusturf Tunnel would be no different. They wouldn't respect the Whismur's territory.

Which meant, hundreds of Whismur, all more powerful than Vocaloid, would descend upon the group. While that would be a disaster within itself, they also had all the hostage Pokémon with them. They would be caught in the crossfire.

This changed things. I couldn't afford to chaperone anyone, and I definitely didn't have the time to wait for backup from Roxanne. It wasn't a simple heist—Pokémon's lives were suddenly at stake. I turned to Mr. Briney, haste in my voice.

"Um, sir—" I started. "I'm sorry, but I might have to go on ahead. I'm really worried that your Peeko might me in serious trouble—"

I felt a cold patter across my skin. It was a brief, familiar sensation. Rain. Not even that. A faint drizzle. But, for some strange reason, it was enough to distract me from my sudden panic. There was something different about it, and I was unsure of the source, whether it be the temperature, its frequency, or something else entirely.

Regardless, it was a distracting little moment. And, that moment allowed me to notice the serene look on Mr. Briney's face. Almost like he was put at ease by the rain, and all his worries were washed away. He was unfazed by the fact that Peeko was in the cave, ready to blow at any moment. It was beyond my comprehension.

"Were you listening…?" I asked, not fully convinced he was. It didn't aid my understanding, watching him hold up his worn palm up to the pattering rain.

"It shouldn't be a problem, lass," he assured me.

The entrance to the Tunnel must have been only a few hundred feet away from us, and we had a direct line of sight. But, I watched Mr. Briney face away from the opening, taking to the right side of the pathway. As the rain surrounding us slowly picked up, he reached for the short, rocky ledge out in front of him, trying to lift himself up onto the ridge. I had an entire library of questions for him, but he turned to ask me one before I could utter a single word in response to his actions.

"Mind helpin' me up to higher ground?"

Unsure of the source of his casual actions, I practically stormed my way over to him, demanding answers.

"What are you doing? Sir—your Pokémon is still in danger. We need to hurry and find Team Aqua before things get any worse."

"It's a moot point now," he assured me, but I was unconvinced. He nudged his chin upwards, referring to the rain with his body language. "The sudden change in weather means Peeko's wide awake again. She'll handle the rest from here."

Taken aback, I was worried that the old man was just as insane as Team Aqua, believing his Pokémon was somehow in control of the weather. But, I could tell he was insistent on getting to higher ground, practically crawling up the ridge. My conscience allowed me no choice but to support him up on the rocky ledge, lifting his leg up to the rest of his body's elevation.

"Look, it's fine if you stay here," I said to him. "It's probably safer that way. But I'm going in." Turning to my belt, I started to designate orders to my Pokémon. "Spike, you'll be taking point on this one, with your ears, you'll hear trouble way faster than anyone. Vocaloid, you know these tunnels, so you'll be our guide. We'll have Willow handle—"

"S'cuse me," Mr. Briney interrupted my orders, halting me again. "Pardon the question ya already answered, but your name was Jade, ye?"

"That's right…" I told him impatiently.

"Tell me. Why're you so insistent on facin' off against these hooligans?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Didja have your Pokémon taken, too?"

I felt like the brakes were being hit on my haste to save all the Pokémon. Standing there, drenched in the rain, listening to Mr. Briney asking me such casual questions. I would have gotten enraged at anyone else. But, even though he was wasting precious time, I got the impression that his intent was anything but simple. His expression was serious and genuine. So, I sighed away my frustration, and tried my best to give a clear answer.

"No, I didn't." I started. "But they might as well have, with how much I can't stand Team Aqua. I know how awful they are. And I don't want them to get the last laugh, thinking they can get away with stealing other people's Pokémon. I would be devastated if they got away with stealing _my _team."

To my surprise, it was clear that he listened intently, possibly for the first time. And, I could read a look of respect on his face—like I had just earned it. Through the rain, I watched him nod to himself.

"I don't get out much," Mr. Briney answered back. "I don't see much good in the world left, either. I thought I'd be out here alone, fightin' to bring Peeko back. And here I find you, fightin' that battle for me. For no bigger reason than 'cuz you want to. Not only that—you're kind enough to save a Pokémon's life, seconds after it attacked ya."

It poured harder with every passing second, only adding to the anxiety of the situation. There was a time-sensitive hostage crisis, and the old man, the one that believed his pet bird was somehow causing it to rain, was taking time to applaud me for what I thought were simple acts of kindness. The haste was getting the best of me, my patience evaporated by the praise.

"What are you _talking _about?" I asked pressingly. "We don't have time for this—why are you going on and on about—"

"Because, lass. You've impressed me."

He interrupted my protest. A sixth sense activated within me. It was an odd feeling that came about every time I was talking to someone of mysterious importance. Professor Birch. Zinnia. Scott. People that were every part eccentric as they were dangerous. People shrouded in more questions with every word out of their mouth. I was forced to confront that, just maybe, I might have been wrong about Mr. Briney.

"You're the second trainer to ever do that," he added, voice elevated to match the rain's volume, pelting us. "That first trainer changed my life forever, and I won't forget to repay my debts with the second one."

He reclined, resting across the stony wall to his back, inviting me to rise up on the ledge beside him. My shoes were muddied by the route softened by the rain. The worse the storm got, the harder it was on my eyes, pestering me past frustration. Thrown through a loop by the old man, I looked up to the sky, hoping to see the rain would pass.

There were no clouds.

"Take a seat," he told me again. "Let Peeko handle the rest."

His claims suddenly seemed more valid than a tall tale, more real than a bluff, and more dangerous than a boast. I stared back at his stoic expression with an astute disbelief.

"Who the hell are you, old man?"

"Nothin' but an old fossil whose first love was the sea."

Behind me, there was a sudden, startling blast.

It was like a bomb went off in Rusturf Tunnel, making me jump off my feet in fright, shoulders hunched in duress. The storm of rain was blasting sideways, dotting my skin from a different angle—and a much greater speed. My first thought was fearful, picturing Team Aqua triggering the Whismur pack in the Tunnel. That was far from the truth. It was nearly impossible to see through the diagonal deluge, but there was a phenomenon at the mouth of the tunnel.

A wall of water, ejected from the mouth of the cave.

It blasted out of the opening like a horizontal geyser, rolling and twisting with the roar of a collapsing tsunami. Foaming from the great force, the waves crashed against the stony mountainside it was barreling out of, chipping into the edges and creating cracks along the outside. The route disappeared in the wake of the water; it became a river.

I finally understood Mr. Briney's incessant need to reach high ground. Before I could be dragged away by the flood leading all the way back to Rustboro, I clung to the ledge, scurrying for my life up out of the stream's influence.

Unable to believe what I was looking at, I stared at the flood for minutest straight, speechless and in awe. It seemed impossible that a Tunnel could be filled with so much water, which flowed endlessly out of the opening. It felt even more impossible that all that water came from a single _creature_. I felt small; not insignificant, but certainly small. The battle against Roxanne was the most harrowing battle of my young career. Neither of us were pulling off moves anywhere near this caliber.

I saw Team Aqua uniforms, wading in the water. Grunts, blown back by the explosion of water, floated helplessly in the river, passing by us, unconscious, buoyant on their slumped shoulders. I couldn't see the end of the water, and I wondered if the grunts would get washed back all the way to Rustboro. Hell, they might even end up back in the _sea_, exactly where they'd love to be, if the ebb and flow continued. Beyond the human bodies, I saw several Whismur, struggling to stay afloat, helpless in the waves and frightened past the point of belief. Even the stolen Pokéballs were bobbing along the surface, travelling out of harm's way. It hit me all at once.

In a single attack, Briney's partner leveled Team Aqua, overcame the Whismur pack, _and _rescued the hostage Pokémon. Even to an untrained eye, it was clear. His Pokémon was stronger than any I'd seen—and that included Norman's.

He capped off the display with a remarkable understatement.

"My sweet Peeko is so well-trained."

While it felt like a rug was swept from under me, whatever work I had to do to rescue the stolen Pokémon was undermined. Even still, I seemed to pass whatever virtue test Mr. Briney had for me. Despite doing very little of the work, I was overcome with a flush of relief, now that the danger passed.

It was remarkable to watch—the rain, which fell from nowhere, started to dissipate, until the air was dry once more. It took longer than I thought it ever would, but the flooded route started to lower in water elevation, to the point where the ground, while damp and damaged, was visible. The current was halted, fading away, and suddenly my surroundings revealed themselves again, like the attack never happened.

Stepping out of the cave was a creature that looked incapable of one-thousandth of the damage I just witnessed. A bird, waddling with a body no larger than my foot, pressed onward with yellow webbed feet, wings bent to its side. It pattered in an almost carefree, zig-zagging stride through the uprooted mud and dirt. In appearance, it was identical to the gulls along the beaches, not easy to distinguish from the dozens I had seen before. All its power was contained in its small, unevolved vessel.

I could only come to a single conclusion. A Wingull could only become this strong with literal decades of training. It was possible the Pokémon was older than its trainer.

The Wingull, which he called Peeko, discovered the old man moments after wandering its way out of the Tunnel. It practically hopped its way over to greet Mr. Briney, carrying one of the forlorn Pokéballs in its beak like an earned prize. The way he nurtured the small beast was a kindness I had yet to see from the stoic old man. It was obvious, with every fiber of his being, that he was beyond grateful to see his partner unharmed.

That was another ingredient to the Wingull's strength—love. The tender care of an entire lifetime.

* * *

_**Hello! Thank you for reading the eleventh installment of this Nuzlocke story. I wanted to touch base with readers before we move on with the rest of this story. **_

_**With Peeko being 'rescued' by Jade, we've officially concluded the first arc of the Nuzlocke—hip hip hooray! The beginning of this story has been a roller coaster, but perhaps all the dangerous encounters were meant to make you to forget that there have been no deaths on the team yet… hmm. We'll see how long Jade's record remains spotless. **_

_**Anyway, I see this story as being written in arcs. The next arc will be Jade's journey to Dewford Town, and all the fun involved in that. It will be a bit shorter than this first arc, but each chapter will be filled with important events. So I hope that's exciting to everyone reading this!**_

_**That's all that really needs to be said, but I wanted to supplement the story a little bit for dedicated readers. So, if you're reading through this and you're just looking forward to the next chapter, it's okay to pass on this information! There were just a few details that I couldn't fit into the story that I'd love to expand on before moving forward. For anyone who loves lore as much as me, here it is!**_

_**First, my favorite characters to write so far have been the Gym Leaders… I have big plans for each one! It was glossed over pretty quickly in the beginning, but there are Vigoroth that roam Littleroot Town, guarding the folks that live there. Norman raises a pretty vast assortment of Pokémon that he lends out across Hoenn. They protect the more rural spots, places that are in greater danger of wild Pokémon. One could assume that Littleroot was so well-guarded because the Leader's daughter, and ex-wife, live there. **_

_**Some of you have recognized Scott, a character that practically stalks the protagonist in Pokémon Emerald. To be clear, this Nuzlocke will not include the post-game Battle Frontier from the original source material. That means that, in this version, Scott is NOT just a walking advertisement for the Battle Frontier. He will, however, have a greater purpose in the story, and I was excited to include him. The million-dollar question is, "what's his deal?" No one has guessed correctly yet!**_

_**Speaking of Scott, there are plenty of non-canon elements to this story. In actual Pokémon lore, Mr. Briney and Archie have never met (not to my knowledge, anyway. They definitely were NOT pirates though, haha). But, everything in this story is canon to THIS story. You can consider these changes artistic liberties, in a way. Most of the decisions were inspired by actual lore, however—for example, Mr. Briney and Drake DO know each other in ORAS. The same with Steven and Roxanne (who has been aged up in this story—this blew my mind, but she's only FIFTEEN in Ruby/Sapphire?! I thought she was an in-game teacher!) **_

_**Another thing important to address—"what's with all the Lorekeeper Jorunals?" As people have deduced, these are chapters written in a perspective completely separate to Jade. They aren't really about the mystery of who is writing them (although, it might come as a surprise to some people). I consider these the most important chapters. They're entirely character-driven, and inform the many names and faces of Hoenn. I promise, that the information dumped into the Journals will culminate by the end of the story. They WILL matter, dang it! I also see them as an opportunity to do some really bold things with the story. I won't tease it too much, but the next Journal entry will be super wild! **_

_**Lastly, there were some liberties taken with Jade's encounters in this story. You'll notice she catches Pokémon in places that she wouldn't normally be able to (for example, Goonie being from Petalburg City). I just want to clarify—every Pokémon Jade uses was caught legitimately, in line with the Nuzlocke's rules. Sometimes, the story gets in the way of the capture process. For example, Goonie. In-game, he was caught on Route 103, on the same route where you battle Brendan. But, the rival battle was such a big deal, I felt like it would be distracting to include, "oh, by the way, here's this random Zigzagoon that Jade befriends". I hope it isn't too confusing to Nuzlocke purists! If it ever becomes suspicious, with how/where Jade caught her Pokémon, I'm perfectly willing to address any questions people have! This Nuzlocke was from a while ago, but my save file is still intact. **_

_**That's all for now! I'm always available to answer questions people have about this story—but, my mouth is shut for spoilers! This has been an incredibly ambitious project, and I've been absolutely elated at the response to it. Each of you inspires this story to continue. **_

_**The next update will be at the end of the next arc! **_


	12. Part Ten: The Old Rod

**Chapter Ten: The Old Rod**

* * *

By the time I returned to Rustboro City, it finally hit me that this was still the same day as when I challenged Roxanne. It felt like weeks had passed since then.

There's an image burned in my head. Something that I don't think I'll ever forget. It was the image of Mr. Briney and I, a two-man-band, carrying roughly two dozen Pokéballs back to Rustboro, struggling every step of the way. Because, not only was it a lot to carry between an old man and my skinny ass—but the ground was also irreparably soaked by his pet Peeko's attacks. The stolen Pokémon were returned to the eager, emotional trainers at the school gates. But, it was hardly a triumphant moment for us, a muddied, exhausted duo wincing their way across the city.

After that, I had the luxury of introducing my new elderly friend to Roxanne. I tried my best to gauge her reaction, to see if she knew who Mr. Briney was. But, she didn't; any theory that the old man held any importance in the region was either false, or well-covered. Following the cleanup of Rustboro, the Gym Leader handled the rest, sending authorities to promptly arrest the Aqua grunts we left waterlogged on Route 116.

If I shared one thing in common with Mr. Briney, it was my dislike for being recognized in public. Neither of us wanted to boast our role in covering up the Team Aqua crisis (which was suddenly making national news, apparently). We swore to silence, and asked Roxanne and the other trainers to honor our exclusion from any public credit. I thought that would be the end of it, and I would just leave for the next trek soon enough.

Unfortunately, there was one more loose end I completely forgot about. Just when I thought I would get away with flying under the radar, Mr. Mowberry, from Devon, approached me. He remembered evacuating me from his headquarters, only to watch me storm off _towards _the terrorists wrecking Rustboro, and return an hour later with all the stolen goods. While the trainers and League associates handled the situation with a certain level of tact, the Devon employee had no qualms singing my praises. Why would he? I was the trainer he tried to sponsor. To him, my value just went up.

So, no matter how much I wanted to leave the chaos behind, I was still being corralled. Mr. Mowberry rounded me up, alongside Mr. Briney and Roxanne, for a final meeting in Devon Corporation, with its acting president.

I wasn't sure who I was expecting to see running Devon. Whoever they were, they worked under Birch—so I suppose I expected someone weaselly and opportunistic in the CEO chair. Mr. Stone subverted any image I made of him. In an office as lavish as one would expect of a leading businessman, he sat across from our line of clients facing him. In a blue pinstripe suit, his elbows rested atop his desk, housing a full head of hair despite his age. It transitioned like a monotone gradient atop his head, transforming from silver to white the further it frayed off his scalp. Behind a slanted expression, there was a pair of strikingly blue eyes; not that it was my business, but he was probably a handsome guy a while back. Once we filed into the room, Mr. Mowberry took his seat in the rightmost corner, allowing Mr. Stone to command the conversation.

"So, this is Jade Maple? The one my associate has told me so much about?"

"Flores." I corrected him bluntly.

"Ah." His sound of recognition slighted me. He realized his mistake, but didn't seem to care much. "Taken after your mother's maiden name, have you? I could have sworn reading that she kept Norman's surname…"

If anything, I appreciated that he was ignoring the lies I was told. He knew all about me, and he wasn't afraid to show it. I wasn't afraid of offending him, either.

"You could just call me Jade and make it easier on yourself."

"Of course."

As I became more rigid towards his questions, something seemed to soften on his face, and the tension of the room was momentarily defused. He shrugged, smirking behind a political stare before extending a hand to me.

"Where are my manners? So fixated on your name without offering my own. I am Joseph Stone, CEO and founder of Devon Corporation."

I took his hand. He was only a few years younger than Briney, by my estimations. But, the contrast in their palms was striking; Mr. Stone's were almost lily-white, like he had never worked with them before. Briney had the grit of a man whose hands worked _two _lifetimes. My astute fixation on his hands must have been a bit obvious, since he broke the sudden silence with further business talk.

"We were moments away from striking a deal for your sponsorship," he began. "Little did we know that band of misfits would cause such a ruckus!"

A comment about how he was downplaying Team Aqua's crime was on the tip of my tongue. Maybe Roxanne noticed. Either way, the Gym Leader spoke up before I could make a snide remark I was sure to regret.

"Mr. Stone, if I may." She started, her statement surprisingly casual—unlike with Briney, I was certain these two knew each other. "It isn't up to the League what companies sponsor which trainers. That being said, I would like to vouch for Jade on a personal level."

Mr. Stone smiled.

"Anything for an old friend of the family. The floor is yours, Roxanne."

It was brief. Anyone who wasn't paying attention would have easily missed it. But, there was a fleeting wince of pain that escaped Roxanne's stoic exterior. It came out the second he said _friend_. But, she silenced my million questions, singing my praises with a much more professional tone.

"Jade is a trainer recognized by the Rustboro Gym. She's defeated me in an official battle—but, her feats don't end there. This afternoon, upon Team Aqua's impromptu raid, I entrusted her with following the Pokémon thieves beyond the city borders. She went above and beyond with that task, returning with _every _stolen Pokémon. Devon Corporation has more money and power than any single Gym Leader. However, I must insist. If you hesitate to sponsor this young woman, I would happily fund her journey entirely out-of-pocket."

I was beside myself. This morning, I didn't think Roxanne would _spit _in my direction after I left her Gym. Now, all of a sudden, she was practically willing to _adopt _me, for God's sake. It was a bad look, but I couldn't hide that I had no clue why she thought so highly of me. Thankfully, Mr. Stone didn't seem to notice, impressed with her, leaning back in his seat.

"Aha." He hummed. "I haven't heard you offer such a ringing endorsement of a trainer in a long time. Not since Steven."

There was another subtlety I noticed in Roxanne. This time, no one else could have noticed but me. Because, it was something I'd been doing my whole life, every time my mom would talk about how great Norman was—she was biting the inside of her lip.

Mr. Stone's hands clasped together.

"Alright. You've convinced me. Devon would be happy to sponsor this young girl on her adventure across—"

"Wait, hold on a second."

I interrupted him; it was the only way to get a word in with these Devon folk. There was something weighing on me, ever since I started being praised for the rescue. This was as good as a chance as any to admit the truth.

"That's not the full story… I _did_ set out to rescue the Pokémon, but to be honest, I didn't get to do anything. Mr. Briney was the one who did all the work out there. So, any credit or cash should go to him."

There was a sharp scoff from Briney, as all eyes were on him.

"Lass, you're tryin' to pawn off pearls to swine." He grumbled modestly. "I've got shit to do with money or attention. Besides, I was cheerin' from the sidelines as well—if anyone's the hero of this story, it's my darlin' Peeko!"

The Wingull perched atop his shoulder cocked its head upon hearing its name uttered, releasing a subdued squawk that rang through the office. My focus was fixated on the bird, and I assume everyone else pictured the same thing as me in that instant. All the money and publicity being funneled to the _real _savior, Peeko.

"Right…" Mr. Stone brought the conversation back to its central focus. "It seems you have your hesitations, Jade. If I could be so bold to act as an advisor, you should definitely reap the benefits of this debacle. We all know you're capable, regardless of the facts. An act of public goodwill, sponsored by Devon, is an amazing start to your story as a trainer. You would be wise to accept it."

Slowly, a suspicion was roused. A suspicion that I wasn't leaving this room until I agreed to a deal with Devon. Any apprehension or denial I offered could be hand-waved away, and I didn't see myself keeping to any moral high-ground long enough to make it out of Devon without a signature to a contract.

So, I surrendered, and gave him all the free publicity he wanted.

"Just send the checks to my mom."

He nodded, content with his victory.

"They'll make it directly to her, no hassle. She'll be delighted with what you've done for her, Jade. Your kindness knows no bounds. Devon will also outfit you with the newest PokéNav, so we can keep in contact."

To my surprise, Roxanne hurried the conversation along.

"Mr. Stone, if all business matters are settled, there is a matter I'd like to discuss with Jade before she embarks on the rest of her journey. If we could just—"

At that juncture, there was a sudden intrusion. An unwelcome one.

The doors behind us swung open. Naturally, we were all shocked to hear it, turning to face the entrant. Brendan stormed his way through Devon, reaching the president's office in a huff. The shock across his face was clear, directed entirely towards me, his surprise switching into his usual anger.

"What the hell is this?" He asked in disbelief, demanding his question to the rest of the room. "What are _you _doing here?"

I was just as unhappy to see Brendan. Perhaps more. But, Mr. Stone was misreading the rage filling the space, and laughed off the tension with a casual flair.

"Brendan—" He welcomed the boy into his office. "Never the boy to knock. Your friend Jade just moved up in the world. In a way, you two are coworkers for Devon now."

This time, I was the one wincing at the word _friend_.

Although, Brendan seemed equally disgusted by it. Instead of taking Mr. Stone's chance to act cordially, he kept his scowl zeroed in. I echoed his childish disdain, unwilling to let him hate me more than I hated him.

"You're doing this on purpose…" He remarked. "Sticking close by, just to taunt me."

"Keep your crackpot theories to yourself, Brendan." I muttered back.

"Sellout."

"Kissass."

Mr. Stone laughed at our quips, treating them as nothing more than youthful vigor. Our dislike of each other was so frequent, it was becoming a routine.

"So," Brendan began, flaunting in front of me with the utmost of disrespect. "A Pokédex is too good for you, but a check from my dad's company isn't?"

"The check doesn't come attached with a prick. Not for long, anyway."

He was reaching his boiling point. I could tell.

"How about we settle the score, then?" He questioned, cramming his hand into his bag, aggressively searching for his weapon. "We'll see if Devon can pay your Pokémon's medical bills when I'm through with—"

Ripping his Pokéball off his person, he held it out towards me as I flinched backwards in the office. But, he encountered an unwelcome surprise waiting for him. Pressing his thumb into the button, Brendan had the same complication that I had earlier. There was a Pokémon in the room too strong to allow his Torchic out.

"What the…?" He questioned, obviously having never been put in his place by a trainer more dangerous than him.

I felt a presence on both sides of my periphery. To my left, Roxanne stood, arms folded, giving a teacherly scowl. To my right, Peeko had hopped itself onto Mr. Briney's leveled forearm, hunched towards Brendan. The two trainers whose respect I somehow earned were backing me up, feeding off my discomfort.

"Slow your roll, lad." The old man warned. "The only spoiled brat I'm lettin' throw a tantrum indoors today is Peeko."

"Save the bloodshed for the Gyms, Birch boy." Roxanne added.

I was _not _used to this level of support. Or any, for that matter.

Brendan was unsure what to do with himself, likely not expecting to be ganged up on in his father's own company. The tension was too much for Mr. Stone to ignore any longer. Clearing his throat, he tried to bring the conversation back to its normalcy. Mr. Mowberry reacted to the hidden order, fawning over Brendan, trying to lead him away from the confrontation by a hand on his shoulder.

"Brendan—have a seat over here, our guests were just on their way out the door."

Mr. Stone added to the plea:

"Your father lent you to me for an important trip. Remember?"

Something on Brendan's face shifted, and I could tell he found his means of control in the situation once again. The Devon president made him feel _important_. It was a feeling that was lost on him for a few seconds—he was probably afraid it would never return to him. Regardless, he wouldn't just let me leave without getting the last say. So, he responded to Mr. Stone, his smug smirk was in full view. He made sure to make it sound as important of a job as possible.

"Right. You called me here to find your son."

Maybe it was meant to send my mind stirring with questions, but it only generated confusion. Brendan opened an avenue I hadn't thought possible with Mr. Stone. And, unsure of the specifics of my sponsorship with Devon, and how it would associate me with Birch and his horrible son, I was led out of the Corporation. Before I could get a final say, Roxanne's hand was on my shoulder.

"Let's step outside. This isn't a talk we're meant to hear."

* * *

From there, we were back on the streets of Rustboro City. Upon the Gym Leader's instruction, we meandered our way back to her house, after she alluded to something she wanted to pass along to me. I was never a fan of receiving gifts (although, Norman's shoes were about the best it ever got). Regardless of how willing I was to receive her help, I found myself outside the gate barricading her home, less alone than the first time. Mr. Briney was surprisingly chummy, chuckling about what had happened with Brendan in Devon. Anyone who could mock that psychopath was alright in my book.

"I thought that lad was about to be a few teeth short of a full set—ya've got a Duskull's death stare, lass!"

"I try to reserve my hatred for special cases."

"Well, aren't _you _a healthy mix of good deeds and grit?"

I think what was so rare in Briney was how he treated me like an equal, despite the valley of years between us. The old folks of Littleroot lectured me about the world they never saw for themselves. All it took was a month outside the town to learn that most the advice they spat was either dated or useless. There was an inherent trust with Mr. Briney—and I was certain it had to do with me passing his test. That was beyond me. Although, I suppose if I was testing him, he would have passed.

"So, what are you gonna do about your home, now that it got wrecked by Aqua?" I finally asked. He turned to face southward, towards Route 104.

"Not in the mood to fix it. I was thinkin' about takin' to the sea for a while. Get away from all the bullshit."

"You're speaking my language there, man."

In brief instances, the old man became thoughtful and quiet. That was the only time I would feel a separation of experience between us, and it reminded me that I was only just starting to get out into the world. With Peeko still proudly perched on his shoulder, he finally unveiled what was stirring in his mind.

"When ya get as old as me, ya start to question what your role is." He said. "A simple fishin' trip ain't worth it once ya reach my age. I'm thinkin' I need an excuse to sail around."

In hopes of lightening things, I folded my arms and smirked.

"So I've upgraded to 'excuse' with you, now?"

It earned an aged chuckle from Briney. I could count the number of people who understood my humor on a single hand. I struggled with befriending peers, the exception being Wally. And, I thought that would be a trend that would follow me, across the board, for the rest of my life. I was grateful that this journey matured my understanding of what the world was. There were just as many assholes out there as I assumed. But, there was a shocking number of friends to make. Any number higher than zero was shocking.

"You're alright, kid." He finally remarked after calming down. That was followed up by a quick, subtle remark that was more important than I could have ever known.

"Anywhere ya gotta go, I'll take ya there."

After a buzz, the gates to Roxanne's higher-end home swung open, allowing the Gym Leader to exit the enclosed property, directly into our conversation. It took a few moments for me to recognize her, though. She carried a stack of books and papers that obscured the face; from whatever glances I could afford at the spines, they were college-level texts, similar to what she let me borrow the week before my challenge. The other, wider canvases were rolled up and plopped on top—maps, I could assume.

Methodically, she parted with each piece of knowledge. One by one, a book was bestowed upon me. At first, I directed her to place them in my Bag—we ran out of room quicker than I was hoping. I would have been really apprehensive, taking all these supplies from a Gym Leader that wasn't supposed to share them with me in the first place. But, these were texts for trainers. Chances were, they had valuable information in them. Valuable, because they could be the difference between life and death for my Pokémon.

Roxanne sighed, having handed every resource off to me, excluding a text that she cradled in her arms tightly.

"Okay…" She muttered in a teacherly tone. "Sorry that took so long. I did some digging, and mapped out the next few Gyms you should challenge. Just a list of suggestions."

From the pile in my hands, I placed the majority to my side. It left my hands free, and I unraveled the sheet Roxanne was referring to. There was a bulleted list of towns and cities that housed official League Gyms. Of the list, one town took my attention, circled with a red marker several times.

"Dewford Town…?"

Upon the utterance, Mr. Briney broke out into a hearty laugh. While his voice wavered from the volume, it was undoubtedly joyous.

"Ah, a twist for the ages!" He bellowed, Peeko matching his excitement with a twitch of her wings. "I've been lookin' for a reason to sail to that shithole. Dewford, be damned."

At the bottom of the page, a small map was attached in the margin. As I examined it, Roxanne traced her finger across it, red nail trailing from Rustboro to the ocean off the main continent. She ended at a small island to the south, also circled.

"There's a Gym in Dewford I'd like you to challenge next." She explained, lingering into a brief tangent. "Rustboro has the highest success rate for challenging trainers in Hoenn. Dewford has the second-highest. Of course—for entirely different reasons. I like to encourage young trainers with a lighthearted challenge; _meanwhile_, that buffoon Brawly is too boorish to handle a real job."

"Oh, good." I assured her. "We'll go there next."

"After that, I suggested Mauville." She pressed, the ensuing remark scathing. "Mostly because that weasel Watson might not live to see his next birthday. You'd do good to challenge him before then."

"I feel like you're just sending me to fight the ones you hate the most." The remark was intended to be playful. But, it must have been all-too honest, as I saw an unfamiliar embarrassment on the Leader's face.

"Oh, perhaps…" Roxanne muttered, half-assing a shrug.

I smiled warmly back at her. With some assistance from Briney, we managed to carry the books manageably between us. Although we shared a strange dynamic, I felt like leaving without a thank-you would be rude in _any _context. So, I tried to show a metered gratitude, to not disrupt the wobbly repoire we built up.

"I appreciate all the help. Really."

As we were prepared to part ways, Roxanne got one final say in—perhaps unsurprisingly. Either way, it was welcome.

"One last order of business, Jade." She called. As I turned to address her question, I saw her curiosity—perked eyebrow and all—in full form. "I've been meaning to ask you this since meeting you. Why are you challenging the Pokémon League in the first place?"

I considered my answer for longer than I should have, face scrunched in a thoughtful frown. Even though my journey had been entirely self-motivated, no one had asked me _why _there was a journey to begin with. I didn't think much about the joy of travel, or the laughs. I thought about what frustrated me. Littleroot. Norman. Team Aqua.

Eventually, I answered, too blunt for how long it took to realize.

"I just feel like I have something to prove."

This time, Roxanne smiled warmly back at me.

"Ah. It seems we're birds of a feather, then."

She approached us—for what purpose, I wasn't sure. Before I could assume the wrong reason, her arms extended outward towards me. Acting on reaction, I grabbed what was being handed to me. The final book she carried with her.

In that moment, I realized that I was being tested _again_. And, without being able to recognize that, I passed another person's test. Somehow, I struck a chord with one of the most powerful women in Hoenn. _Me_. Someone who couldn't make a friend in my hometown for six years. Someone who was a synonym for unlikable in my own dictionary.

Peering down at the text, I figured it was something invaluable. I was surprised to see a title, and author, I didn't recognize.

_The Interlocked Lakes: Written and Edited by Lucian. _

"A book I borrowed from a trip abroad." Roxanne mentioned, as I curiously placed it with the rest of my portable library. "I hope you'll get as much out of it as I have."

* * *

And, upon a setting sun, and an old man insistent on adventure, I found myself on open ocean for the first time in my life.

Mr. Briney's ship was rickety, and it felt like the floorboards of the upper deck rattled with each wave it overcame off the western Hoenn shore. But, it was as sturdy as it was old, speeding quickly across the currents flattening out the further we embarked from shore. The pinkish horizon called for healthy weather tomorrow, according to the old fishing captain. Peeko was already to the skies, far more content soaring above the water than any human could ever hope to be. There was a comforting emptiness to the scenery, especially when the continent was out of sight. With ocean encompassing my entire world, it played an important contrast to Littleroot in my mind. With every route traveled, that prison became a smaller percentage of my universe.

I heard before that Hoenn's oceans were way more heavily monitored than they used to be. I worried that meant it would be no less suffocating than the congested cities of the mainland. It was more freeing than I could have hoped for.

Eventually, the small boat's motor lulled to a halt, and we were free-floating on the flattened waves. From what I could grasp of Briney's sea-jargon, over the foamy ambience, we were at the start of Route 106. He must have let the ship sail full-speed to give me a taste of sea-travel, and I was grateful for it.

With our journey slowed for the night, Mr. Briney bestowed a gift to me. He claimed it was to satiate my future boredom—but, I couldn't imagine that happening, still on my high of adventure. It was meant to be a fishing rod, but describing it so simply wouldn't do it justice. More accurately, it was a piece of shit. A makeshift stick wrapped with black duct tape at the end, fishing wire tied at the top and a cheap, Pokéball-colored lure on the end.

"What d'you think of your first sea voyage, lass?" Mr. Briney shouted, still steering.

"Well, I'm not in a hurry to get on my knees and pray to it." I shouted back.

"Good start." I heard him chuckle from the other side of the boat. "That's an old-ass fishin' rod I lent ya. Don't get down if ya can't catch anything with that shit."

Heeding his words, I tossed the line off the side of the boat. It was nighttime, but I was surprisingly full of energy after the crazy day across the western side of Hoenn. Things had been unmistakably fun on-water, ever since leaving the cities behind.

Then came the doldrums.

We floated dully in the ocean for several hours. And, finally, I understood why _everyone _didn't live on boats their whole life.

Nothing changed across my horizon for long stretches of time. And, the glimmer of the stars only made the ocean seem more vast, more devoid of life. I was more sore from sitting on the boat for a short while than running all the way to Rusturf Tunnel earlier that afternoon. Hoenn's sea struck my greatest weakness.

Patience.

Turning to Mr. Briney, I saw him steering along contentedly, making no effort to speed our journey along. Irrationally, I worried that we wouldn't reach Dewford until I was _his _age, at the very least. Ready to surrender my entire fishing career upon the third hour, I waggled the old rod, frustrated.

"Do you really do this for _fun_?" I asked him.

"Yeah, sure." Briney remarked back. "If you consider needin' to eat fun."

"You didn't bring any other food with you…?"

"All my groceries were washed away, thanks to Peeko."

Suddenly, I was regretting my new seventy-year-old best friend. A strange placebo overtook me—knowing we had no food made it feel like I was starving already. Like a child on its tenth hour of mindless television, I was bored beyond the point of sleep. Who could predict a boat ride would prove a greater adversary than Team Aqua? I felt like I should have been warned that the sea was tailor-made to destroy me.

By the fourth hour, I was insistent on catching something. I had wasted _way _too much time to walk away from it empty-handed. So, I stubbornly sat at the right edge of the boat, certain that there was no life under the waves. Water-type Pokémon were nothing but a myth, a whisper on the wind to give starving young women at sea hope.

But, a sudden tug of the line dropped me back into reality.

I thought I was imagining it at first. But, whatever Berry Briney placed in the lure caught the attention of an unforeseen, seafaring Pokémon. I nearly panicked, after four hours of motionless silence.

"Wait, I think I got something—" I told my team shakily, trying to rip a Pokéball of my belt one-handed. "Vocaloid—"

My Whismur ceased all attention to the outside world at some point along the trip. My best guess is she was just as bored as I was. I thought it would be an important bonding moment, using her to catch her first Pokémon. Although, with the hesitation I got back in return, I don't think we were on the same page.

"…_oh…" _She whispered weakly._ "am i supposed to do something…?_"

"What do you mean—" I stammered, beside myself with how lost she was. "_Yes_! There's a Pokémon on the other end!"

"_…so, what should I do…? you're the one in charge…_"

My panic reached its apex as I saw the glimmer of white seafoam, bubbling harshly at the end of my line. In the moonlight, there was the outline of a Pokémon, struggling against my pull to the surface. The creature was moments from being ripped aboard.

"Just do what you do best!" I shouted at my Pokémon, yanking her out of the comfort zone of her Pokéball and onto the deck beside me.

From the ocean's wash below, a creature flew off the surface, attached to my line, in a leap towards me at the edge of the boat. It was a familiar blue creature, with grayish tentacles wriggling erratically in its freakout above water. Above the whites of its eyes were two red bulbous protrusions glowing from the glimmering waves below it. I didn't know much about other regions, but I don't think there was a single person in the world that couldn't recognize a Tentacool when they saw one.

Most people were aware of how poisonous they were, too.

As the beached creature soared towards me in its frenzy, I could only flinch in hopes that my Pokémon would have the wherewithal to intercept it. Before a Tentacool could descend upon my face, my senses were assaulted by the all-too familiar shriek of my Whismur, voice bellowing outward and echoing across the emptiness of the ocean surrounding us. Ears covered, I muffled the painful wail as best I could. The force of the sound, directed at the Tentacool, was enough to launch it backwards, dropping it helplessly along the ridge of the boat. The shout was over as soon as it began, my Whismur calming herself to her usual sheepish volumes. The attack ceasing, I patted her on her head in praise of her first performance.

"Shit..!" A bewildered Briney hollered from the back of the boat. "Give me warnin' next time you pull out that _time bomb_! Ya scared away the rest of our breakfast menu!"

"Well, we're not eating this one." I informed him. It was a decision I made only moments ago, watching the Tentacool flopping along the deck. "I caught it for myself."

"Those things could kill ya from a nibble! No way in hell we're eatin' it anyway!"

With the old man's scolding tone ringing through the backdrop, I was sure he scared away any Pokémon that weren't blown away by Vocaloid's attack earlier. Resigning my fishing career, I approached the Tentacool, lying across from me, sprawled out in its defeatist posture. Fuddling through my Bag, I was looking for the treasures that Devon bestowed upon me. While I was still cold towards the idea of having a sponsor, it only made sense to make the most of my resources.

They were only able to pass a few along, but I pulled out a Great Ball from the side pocket, where I kept my valuables. I chuckled at how perfect it was—the color, and shape, of the top hemisphere was identical to a Tentacool. The destiny wasn't lost on me. I had to catch that Pokémon in this Pokéball.

With the Tentacool safely secured in its new home, part of me worried if it was able to _breathe _out of water to begin with. But, Devon's science seemed to serve me well. In the curious silence, I was met with a new voice, more laidback than I could have expected from the poisonous creature diving at me only seconds before.

"_Wait, you're not gonna eat me?_" He asked, revisiting the conversation I had just concluded with Briney.

"Uh, no." I assured, put off by how casual his tone was. "You're safe."

"_Sick._"

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"So…" I followed up, still confused by the Tentacool's behavior. "You don't have any questions about how this works, or what we're doing?"

"_Nah, I'm good._"He assured me, already relaxed in his Pokéball. Willow spoke of the devices like they were prisons—my Tentacool acted like it was a bachelor pad. "_I just float wherever the current takes me. A coral reef, the mouth of a Sharpedo, a trainer's ball—it's all good to me. It's whatever._"

Dots were beginning to connect in my head. After four hours of maddening boredom in the ocean, I couldn't imagine having to _live _in Hoenn's sea. This Tentacool must have been bored into contentedness by its habitat. It was much more comfortable with the prospect of death than any Pokémon should be—or human, for that matter. I only hoped that it wouldn't be in over its head from any excitement travelling with me would bring.

"Alright… welcome to the team, Jam."

"_I got a name now?_"

"Yeah…"

"_Nice._"

Thus concluded the easiest application process of my life. Before I could return to my regularly-scheduled boredom, Mr. Briney passed some knowledge along to me.

"A word of warnin' for ya, lass." He said. "Trekkin' around Hoenn with more than six Pokémon is a taboo. They'll throw ya in jail, sponsor or not, if they catch ya with the seven ya have now. It'd be best if ya left one behind when we hit land."

I nearly scoffed at the economics at it all. Six felt like such an arbitrary number. The idea of police boats riding up to arrest me for having seven Pokémon on open ocean was almost comical. But, it was worth making the decision before we reached anywhere that a Pokémon surplus would be a problem. Like I was appraising a batch of nonliving specimens, I weighed the pros and cons of each party member, starting with Willow. He was probably the most valuable of the batch, if I was honest with myself. In fact, the more I thought about it, there wasn't anyone on my team I was comfortable leaving behind.

So, before I could worry myself to death with the politics, I came up with an arbitrary rule, one that I would stick by my entire journey: _first-come, first served_. Pokémon I caught earlier on my journey would have seniority.

"Can Jam stay with you, then?" I asked Briney, approaching his space in the captain's quarters. "He's… well, he'd be better off in the reserves, I think."

With a nod, Mr. Briney let me place the Great Ball up onto his desk, to the side of the ship's steering wheel. He returned to his duties as I returned to my incessant boredom.

I did everything I could to avoid sleeping—I wasn't even sure why after a point. Fishing came first, the old rod's line tossed back into the deep. But, like I feared, Vocaloid's shriek scared away every last meal prospect. So, I was left with a few sarcastic beasts and a poisonous jelly-fish for my emergency reserve of meals. The thought of having to eat _any _of my Pokémon was unsettling, so I looked everywhere for a welcome distraction.

The scenery offered nothing of note or interest. So, I was left to scour the boat for something to pass the time. My team was equally bored—they were either asleep, or not in the mood for conversation. Peeko was too far off to care about—not that I could talk to her anyway. So, like an office worker with nothing better to do, I began sorting my belongings. There was no telling when I would need easy access to any of my supplies; the fact that I was thinking like this was proof that I was desperate for something to do.

Before long, I came across the books. Spilling them out across the deck, I was certain that Roxanne left me _something_ interesting to pass the time. To my dismay, a majority of the pile were textbooks intended for college students—hardly the page-turners I was searching for. But, I was insistent on finding something engaging and imaginative. Something a literature student would dream of skimming for a final. Anything to get my mind off the passing seconds on the clock, turning into hours on end wishing I was back on land, at a Center, in a bed.

I came across a few interesting prospects. One stuck out over the others.

_The Interlocked Lakes: Written and Edited by Lucian. _

Well, Roxanne treated it like it was special. I figured I might as well start with the best of the batch.

Truthfully, it wasn't even close to the kind of book I was expecting when I turned to the back cover, reading the synopsis. It was written by a man who lived in Sinnoh all his life—of the regions I knew nothing about, Sinnoh topped the list. The book skimped out on the details of his importance, but he was involved in the upper branches of the region, from the sounds of his credentials.

The book itself was about the three lakes of Sinnoh, which he described as cultural milestones. He researched the legendary Pokémon that were shrouded in myths, their relation to the lakes, and the region's treatment of them.

All in all, I was very disappointed.

Not only was it far from the fantastical, fictional story I dreamed it would be, it was something far more snooze-inducing. _Historical accounts. _I shivered at the thought of reading four-hundred pages worth of interviews. I didn't even care about the legendary Pokémon people wrote myths about in Hoenn—I saw no reason to care about three Pokémon that lived in lakes thousands of miles away, in a region I'd never see.

So, I did what any disinterested reader would. I feathered through the pages, letting them trickle through my fingers.

If I couldn't be any more stumped about what I thought about the rock-type Gym Leader, she threw me yet _another _curve-ball. Roxanne planned for me to be bored by her book from the very start.

Papers flew out from the pages I skimmed past, fluttering to the deck of the boat. Startled by the discovery, I scrambled to collect them before the sea breeze swept them away. There were a dozen-plus loose-leaf pages in my hands, folded and stuffed into the book I had no passion for reading.

The first few I turned around were photographs, and they were all of the same person. A silver-haired boy I'd never seen before. They weren't dated, but whenever they were taken, he was a few years older than me, wearing a tight-black suit. There were pictures of him taken by the university. Pictures of him in groups and clubs. Pictures of him together with Roxanne. His face always housed a soft smile under pure blue eyes—admittedly, he was handsome, in the way famous people are.

I flipped them around, discovering that they were photocopies. Each one had handwritten scrawlings on the back, originally written in ink and scanned over to the paper I held in my hand. All of them had the same name on the back of them:

_Steven Stone_.

At first, I assumed this was Mr. Stone when he was younger. But, the age didn't line up. Roxanne was close in age to this amorphous Steven. In fact, from the pictures, it appeared that they were close in general.

I thought back to my meeting in Devon.

Mr. Stone's remarks.

"_Anything for a friend of the family._"

"_I haven't heard you offer such a ringing endorsement of a trainer in a long time. Not since Steven."_

Brendan's boast.

"_Right. You called me here to find your son_."

Suddenly, I was filled with the excitement that eluded me on the high sea, caught up in a curiosity that Roxanne infected me with. I flipped through the rest of the pages to press onward in my discoveries.

The rest of the pictures were maps. Most of them were of Hoenn's mainland. There were a few depicting the islands surrounding it, too. It was marked in red, like my map to Dewford, with questions scribbled all across it.

_Last spotted? _

_ Visited together, age nineteen. Lead?_

_ Father grew up here?_

It was then that I realized that the maps were all about Steven, too. I began to worry that my excitement was premature. I may have walked into something way bigger than I realized. Mr. Stone, the man powerful enough to sponsor me, was searching for his lost son. He trusted Brendan, son of the mysterious Professor Birch of Littleroot. Their conversation was too important to hear, even for a Gym Leader.

Reading all the inquiries across the map, I was filled with questions of my own. Who was this person to Roxanne? Why is he important? Why is she showing me all of this?

I noticed, on one of the maps, that Dewford Town was clearly marked. But, it was far from the focus; there was a much more detailed cave to the north, with outlined corridors and intricate scribbles. Beneath it, there was the side-note:

_Studied glyphs? _

Turning the page, I saw another note on the empty back. But, this one was different. It wasn't an aimless thought. It wasn't scanned in—the ink was still fresh. Roxanne was speaking directly to me.

_Find Steven before that idiot kid does._


	13. Part Eleven: The Calm Before

**Chapter Eleven: The Calm Before**

* * *

_Pink sky at night, sailor's delight. _

It turns out Mr. Briney's old sea saying was right.

We awoke to a beautifully-weathered day ahead of us on open sea. The gentle breeze was welcoming, whistling across the surface. It brought Peeko back to us; she roosted on the edge of the boat, welcoming me with a fixated stare as I gathered my things in preparation for the rest of our voyage. In contrast to the evening doldrums, we practically soared the rest of the way to Dewford.

The island was on the horizon within two hours of travel. While I enjoyed the sight of something beyond an endless blue, my attention was kept on the PokéNav that Devon lent to me; not because I wanted to call my sponsor. I was forced to memorize a number as a child, in case I strayed too far from home and needed help (which was ridiculous in hindsight, thinking about the square footage of Littleroot). My mother's home phone. Part of me was excited to share with her how far I've come; plus, I was anxious to hear if Devon made good on their promise to deliver my profits.

Sadly, we were still too far from a town to get decent reception. So, I stuffed it in my pocket—a problem I'd have to save for later. Drawn back to the present by Briney's call, I stuffed a hand into my Bag to assess that no belongings were left behind.

"We'll be reachin' landfall before ya know it, lass." He said, steering along with Peeko close by. "To a beach north of town."

Eager for the promise of solid ground in my future, I reached for the Pokéballs strapped to my belt, releasing my team, one by one.

"You heard him, everyone. This is your chance to stretch your legs."

* * *

As my shoes sunk slightly into the softening sand beneath my feet, I was struck with a homely sensation. I never traveled to a beach as a child, but there was still something oddly nostalgic about it. The constant swish of crashing water ashore. The serene breeze dictating the tide. As the foaming waves crept back off the shoreline, I strolled leisurely up to higher ground on the Dewford beach, turning to get a better vantage of the vast horizon ahead of me. With the beach outlining the scene, it was much more beautiful.

Days like these reminded me that the journey wasn't a race. Gyms weren't going anywhere. I could afford a beach day.

Ready to settle myself in, I dropped my Bag beside my discarded Running Shoes, letting myself soak in the wet-down sand around me, holding out my arms to let forlorn salt, tossed and tussled by the waves, dot my skin. Beside me, Willow crept ashore, collapsing nearby in the depleting puddle of sea water, returning to the ocean behind him.

"_Oh, thank Arceus…_" the Treecko remarked exhaustedly, planting his palms into the sand in front of him, motionless. "_I never thought I was getting off that terrible ferry._"

I acknowledged the display with a smirk.

"Always the drama queen."

"_Mock me all you want—I'd rather roll around in the sand for the rest of my days than spend one more night on that death-trap._"

Willow could be harsh, but he seemed to be bothered by the same things I was. He was just dialed to eleven. Compared to the bloodied mess he was against the Nosepass, he appeared as a pampered being, embracing the beach like it was his new habitat. I couldn't blame him; even if it was only for a while, I wished I could live here, too.

Before I grew too stagnant in my relaxation, another blur of a Pokémon blew past my vision. My team reacted to their freedom from the sea differently; some of them were able to settle down for a break, but others were glad to be out of their Balls for a change.

Goonie drifted along the beach at insane speeds, a brown and white blur of a Zigzagoon slipping between my legs and strafing through the sand, leaving forceful footprints in a dissonant pattern behind him. On a crash-course with the prone Willow at the edge of the waves, he braked as best he could, skidding excess sand across him, before the rodent leapt back into its trek, spinning doughnuts in the sand.

"_HEY!_"Willow shouted, practically barking in agitation. "_Watch it!_"

"_How about you pick a better spot to crash?_"Goonie called back, energetically tearing his attention back to the Treecko he nearly leveled, back hunched and tail swaying in excitement. "_I haven't sat still that long in forever—I've got energy to burn!_"

Willow's arms folded, a cool demeanor overtaking him.

"_Knock yourself out, Gym rat._"

"_Is that any way to brush off the fastest on the team?_" Goonie taunted. The cool demeanor immediately crumbled.

"_What are you implying?_"

"_I'm implying you're SECOND fastest, Labbie._"

"_You're trying to bait me into a race, aren't you?_"

I was beside myself watching the interaction—it was the first sign of spunk I'd seen in Goonie since I met him. Ever since I 'rented' him from Norman, my Zigzagoon has been a Pokémon of simple needs. He ate, and slept, rarely sharing his opinion; any time I tried to speak with him, he would only remind me how grateful he was to be out in the world. Now, he was full of life, completely charged and playful.

We shared something important in common. Both of us were growing happier, the further away we moved from Petalburg.

Better yet, Goonie was crafty. He spent long enough observing Willow from the sidelines, knowing that he would never back off from a challenge. My Treecko let out a winded sigh, finally caving.

"_…You'll be sorry that I'm so predictable._" Willow remarked as he strolled past Goonie, beckoning him to follow. "_We'll settle this once and for all. You have no clue how many Zigzagoon I've put down in my day._"

"_Way less than you've outrun, I bet._"

Bypassing the peaceful atmosphere, my Pokémon resorted to a race, only seconds off the boat. After designating me as the judge (a high honor I'll take to the grave with me), Willow and Goonie headed for flatter sand, drawing lines and measuring the distance they would be running. After a brief debate over the rules, and stakes, they bent themselves in preparation, counting softly before bursting into a full sprint towards the finish.

I was supposed to pay close attention to crown the winner—truthfully, I got distracted, and never saw who won. In my periphery, I caught wind of a peculiar scene. My Whismur, Vocaloid, was strolling in circles of her own. Her tiny body would waddle in an infinite left turn, ears swaying with each step. Eyes fixated on the ground in front of her, she was matching each of her feet with the holes she left behind in her trot.

"_…heh…_"

"You alright there?" I asked, hands at my hips as I watched.

"_…yeah… i can follow my footprints… this is fun…_"

I didn't know much about Vocaloid, being the newest party member and all. But, that small snippet was enough to convince me she was living her best life.

The argument between Goonie and Willow echoed in my head; after it became clear I wasn't paying attention, they debated the victor of their race, endlessly nagging one another, inventing new insults along the way. About halfway through their bickering contest, I heard a sigh ring in my ears, only to turn to my side and see Spike seated beside me on the beach.

"_Children…_" she muttered.

"Not in the mood for a beach day, Spike?" I asked. At the sound of her name, my Poochyena's ears perked, warm eyes turned up at me before scanning the horizon.

"_I'm more content keeping watch._" She explained. "_Just in case a trainer comes from town, or a Pokémon washes ashore._"

A faint tinge of guilt rung in the back of my mind, thinking back to the argument I overheard between her and Willow. Of the group, Spike was the most well-mannered. Amidst a pack of hooligans, she was responsible to a fault. In a team that thought of me as an equal (in Willow's case, I was inferior), Spike treated me like her _trainer_. Perhaps selfishly, I thought it was far from the dynamic I wanted to foster.

"You can afford to relax, at the very least." I told her, on the off-chance that she forgot that somewhere along the way.

"_That's alright._" She said, still stiff as a board, keeping out of the fun and peering across the beach. "_The rest need this break more than me. That Treecko has no intention of leading the others. So, until someone more capable comes along, I'll keep them safe._"

I shrugged. It was beyond me, but this was Spike's form of passing time; there were plenty of things I wanted to assure her of. That she was safe, that the others were under _my _watch, that she should live less like my pet and more like my friend. But, I kept them all to myself, settling on a more palatable response.

"Just don't burn yourself out."

A flutter of wings cast a shadow across the beach in front of me, as Apache dove onto my arm from the skies above. Resting from his journey across our new landfall, my Tailow shook itself clean of the wet residue passing through the sea breeze, gaining a stable balance on my arm, perched delicately.

"_This island is so vast…_" He told me, head twisting to look across the ocean cast out in front of us. "_It took so long to fly across the coast!_"

"Well, don't leave me in suspense." I said, metering my arm and adjusting him slightly. "What did you see?"

"_Out to sea, there are ridges sticking out of the waves," _Apache explained_. "Other bird Pokémon are roosting atop it. I'm planning on meeting the locals—Geisha, you should come with me._"

I turned towards my belt, awaiting a response in the ensuing silence. All my other Pokémon embraced the chance to exit their Pokéball and take part in the beach day. Geisha was the only exception; she hadn't left hers since evolving. Any attempt I made at welcoming her out into the open was shut down pretty handily. I was curious to see how she would handle someone else's invitation. Eventually, her voice came to us.

"_Oh, I'll opt out of that adventure…_" Geisha answered, almost nervously. "_It's quite cozy in here._"

"_You haven't felt the sea breeze yet._" Apache pressed the issue. "_It makes flying menial. Come out and try it for yourself._"

"_The beach is no place for a Dustox, I'm afraid. I'll spare everyone the sight of me. Besides, I wouldn't want to track sand back into the ball—_"

I was briefly startled as Apache leapt off from his perch on my arm, moving up towards my shoulder. Before I could ask where he was headed, he already dove down, landing atop my belt, head curiously tilted. Daintily, he searched for my Dustox's Pokéball with one of his talons, eventually reaching it.

"_Huh, wha—_" Geisha stammered in duress. "_Wait, what are you doing?!_"

With a finesse unseen in the Tailow since I'd caught him, he managed to set Geisha's Pokéball free of its latch. He spared an intent look at me.

"_I'm going to borrow this, if you don't mind, Jade._"

I smiled, almost deviously.

"By all means."

"_J-Jade!_" Geisha objected. "_How could you! This betrayal—I'm being abducted! Hel—_"

The rest of the objections were cut off; with the Pokéball off my person, I could no longer hear her staunch refusals. Apache took to the air in front of him, Ball in talon, letting the winds guide his drift upwards, wings spread in an almost kite-like figure outlined by the afternoon sun. I watched his shadow edge up against the waves crashing to shore. He flew further outward, until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon from the beach's view, waves tumbling beneath them.

I heard him instruct Geisha.

"_We're going to play a game of catch. Except, you'll be doing all the catching._"

From shore, I could see the Pokéball free-falling towards the ocean, dropped from his grasp completely.

"_And, well, you'll be catching yourself._"

My eyes widened, and I nearly gasped at the stunt. Before panic overtook me, and before I dove into the water headfirst to find my discarded Pokéball, it lit up mid-flight. Forced to eject and save herself from an untimely plunge, Geisha took to the skies, grasping her Pokéball between her tiny, green legs. The flaps of her crescent wings were erratic, and she flew violently up to Apache's more graceful soar.

I could only hear my Tailow's side of the conversation. But, I could imagine the rest, inventing Geisha's angry shouts in my head, picturing how shrill her voice must be after the sudden, unexpected prank.

Something changed within me, and I wasn't sure at what point it happened. Maybe I was desperately grateful to be back on land again. It could have been the petty challenge between Willow and Goonie. Or Vocaloid's simple bliss. Perhaps Spike's deep care for the rest of the crew. The comedy act between Apache and Geisha was a strong contender, too.

I laughed. And laughed, and laughed.

Past the point of my abs tightening, I was hunched on the beach, unable to erase the smile from my face, watching the pandemonium of my Pokémon conquering the beach we just encountered. I laughed, the only person on the beach, like a true fool. To the point of a tear forming in my eye, and my body screaming at me to stop.

Even though I couldn't pinpoint the reason, I was happy.

But it was followed up by an unpleasant thought.

_I haven't been this happy since I was nine years old._

* * *

Before I realized it was happening, the beach day became a beach night, the pink sky of last night echoing across the horizon before us. It was the first time I found myself relaxing on a route with my Pokémon, out in the open and enjoying their time on the outside. Willow and Goonie eventually ran themselves into the ground; worn by the countless races that ensued that afternoon, they were already asleep by the boat. I didn't have it in me to wake them up and return them to their Pokéball, opting to let them be.

Somewhere on the flattened sands above the water's edge, Mr. Briney wiped away a plot where he dropped kindling into a pile, angling logs in an arch for a future campfire. More accustomed to the sea, I watched him struggle to get things started, twisting a stick between his calloused palms over the wooded pile. I sat, cross-legged with Vocaloid sitting on my lap, across from him, watching the process. To my right, Spike was awake as ever, keeping an eye on our surroundings; I got the impression that she slept the least of the group. Eventually, a fire warmed us as the stars became visible.

Content with his work, Briney reclined himself on the opposite end of the fire. His Wingull, Peeko, kept roosted on his shoulder, as exhausted as the rest of us.

"I've no interest in the town to the south," the old man told me, eyes trailed on the direction in question. "I think I'll keep the ship parked on-route 'till ya get that Badge. Don't let me hold ya back, if you're in a hurry to check it out."

I considered the adventure for only a passing moment, instead choosing to rest across the beach myself, without a care for the sand coating my clothes.

"I thought about sleeping in a Center. But, a night on the beach sounds nice."

With a soft chuckle, Briney entertained himself with an amusing thought:

"That Brawly fellow better be worried. It's the shy ones that're dangerous."

Staring at the blazing kindle before me, I felt oddly emotional, sitting in the peaceful beach atmosphere. It wasn't odd for me to get upset or angry, but it was definitely new to feel so _homesick _all of a sudden. Especially since Littleroot was anything but a home to me. Maybe it was more simple than that; I missed my mom. I worried about her, and I hoped she was alright all on her own. She was her own person—but, sometimes it didn't feel like that, after Norman went his own way. It was like a piece of her was left with him.

Being so contemplative must have left an uncomfortably long silence. Seeing how intent I was sitting alone and thinking, Mr. Briney's attention turned to the ocean. Leaving my worries and distractions behind, I noticed a mystified look across the ship captain's face, staring blankly off at the waves we crossed to reach her.

I could have never guessed the old man would sing.

It was far from an upbeat jingle. Though it was more in line with a sea tune, he sung it at a much lower, softer tone, eyes tracing the moon lifting up into the sky. I was transfixed; the melody was truly haunting, and the pitch was perfect.

_I'm but one soul abound the ocean…_

_No father, mother to my name…_

_There is no home for me in Hoenn…_

_Only the sea to fuel my flame…_

_Beneath the depths, the fish forgotten…_

_Keepers of ice, of steel, and stone…_

_Our budding treasure yet to blossom…_

_Our fruits of labor all we own…_

_When this great voyage hits its ending… _

_Spread my remains 'cross Evergrande… _

_And may the tale blow ever-sending… _

_Across the storms of Hoenn, damned… _

_I'm but one soul abound the ocean…_

_No father, mother to my name…_

_There is no home for me in Hoenn…_

_Only the sea to fuel my flame…_

I felt my hand sliding itself across my forearm, trying to reduce the chills. Whatever wave of emotions I was feeling got frozen over by the song; I watched Vocaloid's ears curl once silence fell at the campfire again. Clearing my throat, and avoiding choking up, I managed to struggle a question out in the open:

"What was that from?"

He nearly winced, like he had been transported somewhere and forgot there was someone eavesdropping nearby. But, after Briney cleared his throat himself, he answered my question with his usual subdued, gravelly tone.

"Just an old sea shanty. A friend of mine would always sing it on our voyage. A friend long-gone. We'd sing it to pay respects to the departed."

I paid respect in my own way, offering the best compliment I could offer.

"It's a beautiful song."

He nodded, as if agreeing. We sat across from one another, devoid of conversation until the coals overtook the fire, smoke blowing up into the night sky. When there were only brief flickers and sparks wafting in the wind, I heard Mr. Briney add to his song.

"It reminds me of what folks used to say where I grew up." He said, almost smirking at the thought. "_If ya favor the ocean over your home, you'll die an unlucky death someday_. Somethin' my mum would always tell me, probably to scare me into stayin' home."

To me, it sounded like being lied to was a part of growing up in Hoenn. We had a decent laugh at that, ridiculing Briney's mother for her superstitious ways. But, somewhere deep down, I felt a flicker of anxiety.

With the nighttime events coming to a close, the flame was snuffed out, and Mr. Briney was insistent on spending the evening drinking in the cabin of his ship. I didn't feel like exerting the effort to find a better spot, so I tried to sleep on the beach, right where I laid by our departed campfire. The waves offered a soothing white noise, and I was lulled into an exhaustion I forgot somewhere along on our fun-filled day. Despite how tired I was, I couldn't sleep. My head raced with thoughts, good and bad, distracting me from any and all dreams. Home, mom. Norman, Wally. Team Aqua. Briney and Peeko. Roxanne, Devon.

I would have been frustrated with my awful sleeping habits on any other night. But, truthfully, I was grateful I wouldn't accidentally fall asleep. Not all of my Pokémon made it back yet; I made sure the head count checked out. Goonie and Willow were out cold. Spike and Vocaloid followed suit once the campfire ceded.

Like clockwork, the final pair returned. With nothing but the full moon lighting the beach, I could see the shadowy flutter of familiar wings, and two figures perched on the roof of Briney's ship, a few dozen feet down the shore. My Tailow and Dustox, returned from their flight along Dewford's coastline. Out of any of my Pokémon, I didn't expect Geisha to make the most of her day out.

Content with all of my team back in their nest, I was ready to rest my eyes and let sleep take me, completely uncertain of what tomorrow had in store. Before I could accomplish that so simply, I overheard Geisha remark:

"_The moon is so bright… I was hoping it'd be dark enough to keep out of sight._"

Again, my Pokémon's voices were ringing in my ears, unaware that I was eavesdropping. And, again, I was insistent on listening in, curious of what they talked about when their trainer wasn't around. Selfishly, I remained still, and let them believe that I was asleep like the rest.

Around me, Apache was authority-driven, like a soldier taking instructions from a superior. Hearing him interact with Geisha was completely different—he seemed relaxed, personable. Subdued. Like a creature who had seen their entire habitat ruined, lamenting and reminding themselves.

"_I don't understand why you hate being a Dustox so much._" He said plainly, after an unbearable silence. "_In the Woods, I was raised on stories about them._"

My Dustox laughed, self-deprecating.

"_Horror stories, I'm sure._"

"_Far from it,_" Apache answered, not sharing in the humor of her remark. Instead, he recounted the stories in a reminiscent, almost reverent tone. "_I heard that they were nighttime hunters, and that they draw strength from the moon. I was told that a Dustox bathed in enough moonlight would live forever._"

Geisha scoffed, forcing a silence onto the scene that was deafening (at least it was for someone listening in when they shouldn't be). My Tailow echoed her silence, as if patiently waiting for her to speak up. Eventually, it worked.

"_Every word of that is a lie_," she told him, like admitting to a great misdeed. Like she told that lie herself. "_Dustox are scavengers. Back where I'm from, they feed off dead things. If they're lucky, maybe their poison will be enough to score their own meal for a change. That's their entire life._"

Performing my best audition for a corpse, I remained petrified along the beach, allowing only a single eye to open up at the pair atop the boat. I saw Geisha's wings, extended in a semicircle, a splotch of color atop the negative space of the moon above.

"_But, the Beautifly take to the daytime sky as gods. They pollinate Hoenn's flowers, beloved by all and gorgeous beyond measure._"

To me, it sounded like Geisha idolized Beautifly as much as Apache did Dustox. It was interesting how they could be worlds apart in their worldview, only living a few routes apart from each other. In that way, they weren't that different from people.

"_So, a Dustox feeds off bones at night, and a Beautifly off flowers in the day_," Apache reasoned, trying to balance a stern tone with a gentle message. "_Does it really matter what time of day a Pokémon hunts, or what it eats to survive?_"

I saw my Dustox shake her head.

"_It does._" She demanded. "_A Beautifly lives… beautifully. Dustox are hideous._"

This time Apache scoffed, and I think Geisha was taken aback by how easily her statement was brushed off. Feathers ruffled, I saw my Tailow shake off whatever ridicule he held, calming himself for a more coherent thought.

"_You sound just like a human._"

"_I'm sorry, what?_"

"_You worry about the same things humans do,_" Apache explained. "_Judging everything based on appearance. Saying things are more important if they're beautiful. Basing value on vain things._"

"_What,_" Geisha contested him with a discouraged candor to her words. "_Do you doubt humans have an eye for talent?_"

"_Yes. Absolutely._"

To be honest, I wholeheartedly agreed.

"_Think about it,_" Apache added. "_You didn't survive in the wild because you were the prettiest Wurmple of the pack. You had to be capable and resourceful. And, no matter how ugly you thought you were, you still caught a human's eye—one of the best of them._"

"_Who, Jade…? You and I both know that girl is a special case._"

"_Maybe. She's more like us than any human I've met._"

If every fiber of me wasn't attempting to be silent, I might have guffawed at the thought. Me, a Pokémon. They saw me as more Pokémon than human, at the very least. I knew a lot of people that would be insulted at that sentiment. But, I knew they meant it as the highest form of praise. It was heartwarming. More than anyone who stuck up for me since I left Littleroot, my Pokémon were my closest friends. It felt like an honor to be in the same ballpark as them.

By the end of their conversation, it was unclear if any minds were changed from their brief talk. But, there was enough silence to suggest that there was plenty of deep thinking on Geisha's end. To avoid overwhelming her, Apache backed off, edging his way towards the end of the ship's roof so he could hop off and go to sleep.

Before that, there was one last attempt.

"_If you ask me, there's only one thing that makes a Pokémon beautiful. Strength._"

As the voices fell deaf in my head, I was oddly disappointed—my source of entertainment was suddenly gone. But, I was content beyond belief, hearing what my friends thought of me; I was also proud that they cared enough about each other to encourage the stragglers.

Right there.

I can pinpoint it. That was the exact moment I should have slept. I would have passed out with a full heart, ready to take on the rest of Dewford in the morning.

But, I was too late.

There was an impromptu buzzing from my pocket; it jostled me out of my motionless recline across the sandy beach. Stunned, my movements stuttered for a brief instant before recognizing what it was—my new PokéNav. Now that we were only few miles outside of town, I was getting reception. Bringing life to the screen, it notified me; several missed calls. All from the same number.

A number I recognized.

Every bit eager as I was worried, I accepted the sudden call, bringing the Nav to my ear and metering my bated breaths. When there was empty static on the other end, I spoke up, voice croaking over the subtle waves in the backdrop.

"Mom?"

"Jade, is that you? Oh my God…"

My heart skipped a beat, awash with relief and excitement. The very woman I wanted to speak with this morning. A cure to the homesick feeling I felt by the campfire. It was dark, and no one could see it. But, it'd be dishonest to tell anyone that my face housed anything but a full smile.

"It's me," I answered back, overcome with an odd nostalgia. Even though it hadn't been two months, it felt like years since I last spoke with her. "It's me."

"Are you alright?" She asked me, still erratic with worry. "Someone came to the house and told me that I could reach you at this number…"

"I'm perfectly fine, Mom." I assured her, trying my best to put her at ease. But, there was so much to catch her up on, I gave an incoherent story, too excited to filter the important details. "It's been really busy on this end too. After I made it to Oldale, I wanted to keep going. I couldn't get far enough away from Petalburg, either. I went to Rustboro and beyond—before I knew what was happening, I was on a boat, and—"

She interrupted me. Suddenly, unexpectedly. I was naïve in sharing so much of the joy I felt outside of Littleroot, because I misunderstood what my mother was calling about. She _was _worried about me.

But, now that she wasn't anymore, she was upset with me.

"Jade… don't you think you've gone too far?"

Taken aback by the question, I wasn't sure how to answer.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"You never told me this would turn into a joyride…" She explained sternly, in the way annoyed parents did. "I thought this was all a way for you to visit your father."

"What?" I asked, scoffing at the thought of being excited to go on a goddamn fishing trip with Norman. "_No_. No, he's the one that sent me off in the first place—he told me to earn all the Gym badges and—"

"Jade."

With the cold mention of my name, a switch flipped in my head. I couldn't live in denial, forced to confront why my mother was calling. Before I knew what happened, I dissociated. I wasn't myself, hearing her lecture me.

"These strange corporate folk came to the house yesterday. They tried to give me more money than I would ever want. They told me that you were becoming the source of gossip… and that you were fighting _cultists._"

"That's the thing, Mom." I pleaded, in a final, desperate attempt. "There's so much I want to talk to you about."

"Then come home."

And there it was.

All of a sudden, being a trainer felt like living in an echo chamber. Here I was, surrounded by people supporting my journey—only because _they_ were on journeys of their own. Someone like my mother, settled on a plain life, struck me with the first reality check I had in months. She didn't approve of what I was doing; all it took for her to discover that was me leaving in the first place.

Just like that, another switch was flipped.

I wasn't homesick. I was sick of home.

"You're making things so complicated for yourself," she prattled. "Catching and fighting Pokémon—being a trainer is _not_ a lifestyle you can afford. You may be trying to follow in your father's footsteps, but he worked so hard so you could have an easier life. He works for the League, and he does it to take good care of you."

I had nothing to say in response. She was giving me a lecture on autopilot and my eyes glazed over until the beach became blurry. She continued to make her case for a return to normalcy.

"They added a Galar League to our cable pack. You can watch the fights whenever you want at home. I don't know where you are, and I don't know how to get to you… but, if you need help getting back to Littleroot, I'm sure your father can send for it."

I answered defeatedly.

"Yeah."

"Alright…" she sighed, as if relieved to say everything on her mind. Maybe even a little bit _proud _of everything she said. "I'll be waiting to hear back from you."

The call was ended. I don't remember if I hung up, or if it was her.

I think that might have been the worst conversation of my life. It's hard to tell. The biggest contender was six years ago—their divorce announcement.

I was traveling, and my world was becoming bigger. But, it wasn't just the map that was expanding; the world kept turning, no matter where I went. No matter what I did, the world _changed_. When I learned new things, it only made me wonder why I thought the old things were true in the first place.

It was too late at night to be having such revelations. I wish I could have delayed it. But it felt like being hit by a truck, one that was staring me in the face for years.

_All this time._

_Norman wasn't the one keeping me trapped in Littleroot. _

_It was her. _

Sleep eluded me in my life frequently; you spend enough time thinking, it's hard to turn that off for eight hours. It wasn't uncommon to have sleepless nights. In fact, it was _common _after rough days. After my fight with Norman in Petalburg. After my near-death experience in the Woods. After Roxanne ridiculed me.

Maybe I didn't admit it in the moment, but Mom was just added to the list of stressors. And, honestly, she was way lower on it than everyone else.

Reclined on the beach, I relaxed, even though I knew it would be impossible to sleep. The enjoyment of the day may have been tainted, but that didn't stop any and all thoughts from crossing my mind. Predictions and memories, past and future, alike. I envisioned my case of Badges, going from one to two, then two to four and five, and eventually eight. I pictured living on a beach someday. I pictured living like a hermit on the high sea like Briney when I'm older.

I remembered what his mother told Briney when he was my age.

_If you favor the ocean over your home, you'll die an unlucky death someday_.

The next thought was natural.

_I wonder how I'm going to die someday. _


	14. Part Twelve: The Everstone

**Chapter Twelve: The Everstone**

* * *

"Hey, lass… I hope ya know that Dewford Town is south of here."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well… do ya know you're goin' north?"

By the time morning hit, I was ready to distract myself with anything other than my thoughts. Trailing the rest of the beach ahead, I was halted my Mr. Briney, beside himself in confusion at my course. I pulled the map from my Bag, waving it towards him like it was a coherent answer to his questions.

"Roxanne asked me to look into something," I told him, headed for the beach's northern end. "The Gym isn't going anywhere—I'm gonna check this out first."

The beach felt much more desolate without Briney's ship in sight; there weren't any trainers on-route, not as early as I was traveling, at the very least. My plan was simple—look for a welcome distraction in a place that didn't have cell service. If I was preoccupied in whatever cave Roxanne wanted me to explore, I could refuse any invitation for a guilt trip thrown my way.

Examining the Dewford map closely, I was able to pick out the name of our destination: Granite Cave. Every landmark was labeled by Roxanne; the original map barely bothered noting wherever we were headed. Whoever drew the map didn't think it was important enough to mention—Roxanne disagreed. What better excuse for an adventure was there to find out who was right?

"_What's this trip for, Jade?_" Apache asked, once we were out of earshot of any prying ears. "_Training?_"

"Mostly… but, there might be someone here we're supposed to meet."

"_Who…?_" Willow's voice rang in my ears, as judgmental of my actions as ever. "_No human is worth all this nonsense._"

"His name is Steven."

"_Wow. Even his name sounds unimportant._"

"Listen, Willow—" I reasoned with him, not in the mood to have my actions up for debate. "This is just another route to us. We go in, fight a few Pokémon, and come out a little bit stronger."

"_Speak for yourself._" He objected. "_I don't do well with underground spaces._"

"_Then I guess you're content with being a coward._"

Spike's comment was enough to silence me in surprise. It threw Willow through a loop, too; he scoffed in disbelief at the seething remark.

"_That's rich, coming from you._" He shot back. "_Where were YOU when I was being crushed by rocks in Rustboro?_"

"Alright, stop." I warned them, already spent with drama at the journey's beginning. "We're not doing this again."

Usually, I welcomed my Pokémon bickering like siblings. But, with Spike, my Treecko was always scathing, and it was never in good fun. They had a rivalry I couldn't endorse; in some ways, it reminded me of Brendan. The only time I wanted to exert any authority, as their trainer, was when they fought over who was more important. That wasn't a contest anyone needed to win, as far as I'm concerned.

We encountered the face of the mountain, not minutes into the silence I forced upon my team. Compared to the cliffside Rusturf Tunnel was bored into, Dewford's mountains were more of a flat, rocky set of hills, akin to a makeshift bike trail. The opening was a few people's worth wide, and pitch-black past the point where sunlight crept in. In my Bag, I prepared all the essentials for spelunking (earlier this week, I was under the impression I would have to save hostage Pokémon in a cave). It felt like a mile's worth of rope was stored on my person, in the case the trail went steeper than expected. Halfway through hyping myself into traveling through the darkness, there was a faint flash at my hip, and my Poochyena accompanied my entrance into the tunnel.

"_I was built for dark spaces, Jade._" She assured me. "_I can see without light, and can smell a Pokémon from a mile out. Let me lead this expedition._"

Nodding in gratitude, I knew Willow wouldn't be able to help himself. My Treecko had to get the final word in.

"_What a noble soul._" He taunted her. I could _feel _his eyes rolling. "_Just know, I won't save you when you get in over your head._"

As the sunlight left on our advance forward, I could see the glow of my Poochyena's eyes filling the emptiness of my vision. The rocky floor was uneven, and difficult to traverse without any bearings; each time I grabbed at the wall to steady myself, they were slick with condensation. The air was oddly humid—my best guess was that it was teeming with wild Pokémon. The beaches were empty, so they had to stake out somewhere. Despite my assumptions, Spike kept quiet, implying she wasn't picking up on any signs of life quite yet.

Fearful that the entire cave would be impossible to traverse, I nearly stopped in my tracks in favor of better light sources from the Dewford Pokémon Center. Luckily enough, we reached a faint glow at the end of the tunnel. Not enough to blind me, but plenty to offer hope. Avoiding any eagerness, I kept behind my Pokémon as we patiently approached.

My guess was that this cave was a tourist trap—fully-explored, from top to bottom. That would explain the lights, which I assumed were bulbs strung along the walls.

To my surprise, there were no signs of life. The light itself was part of the cave.

The interior of the mountain opened up into a vast room, with a ceiling larger than any cathedral in Hoenn. Stalactites crept off the top of the cave like jagged teeth, dripping moisture off into puddles on the floor. Everything was visible thanks to the glow, emanating from a slab of stone in the center of the room. It was white like ivory, humming an iridescent blanket of light across the rugged floor. Transfixed, I circled the room, catching different reflections from the crystalline stone, planted dead-center in view.

From my vantage, I saw no more tunnels. With no further avenues to travel, I threw my hands up. Visiting this place was a gamble anyway, so I wasn't surprised it didn't pay off.

"Alright…" I sighed, ready to turn tail back into darkness. "No trainers, no Pokémon. I guess we can mark it off Roxanne's list."

The only reason I stayed long enough for disaster to strike was because I noticed my Pokémon's unease. Spike was on edge, despite my haphazard assumption that we were alone. Her caution heightened my panic.

"What's the matter?" I questioned shakily. "Do you smell something?"

"_This cave doesn't FEEL empty…_" Her vague answer didn't put me at ease one bit. "_But, I'm having a hard time focusing. There's something wrong with this place…_"

I could tell she was searching for answers herself. Once she donned a look of surprise, her ears perked and pupils thinned at the sight. I turned to see what she was facing. She scowled at our light source.

"_That stone is trouble._"

"You think so?" I asked.

"_Jade, I feel it too._" Goonie spoke up as well, from his Pokéball.

"_W-wait, I don't feel anything…_" Geisha remarked, as confused as me.

"…_i sense it…_" Vocaloid whispered in my ear. Her haunting tone only multiplied my fear. "_this is nothing like my old home…_"

"_Hold on, you guys!_" Geisha's pleas were as erratic as I felt on the inside. "_You're giving me the heebie-jeebies! I'm not on whatever wavelength the rest of you are… is there something wrong with me, or—_"

Our confusion was heightened and silenced all at once, as Spike's posture stiffened, jolting me into a panic. The ensuing silence was torturous, until she whispered an update in the nick of time.

"_Pokémon. Ahead of us._"

We could hear them before they were visible in the light of the cave. A struggle filled with disgruntled battle cries between two unseen creatures. There were gusts from whiffed strikes, and a pattering of the moist floor beneath them. Although the white stone made most the room visible, there were still shadows creeping around the various crevices of the cave. Out from one of the blind spots, a Pokémon was launched into view.

It was familiar from the stories I read as a kid—a face anyone that grew up in Hoenn would recognize. A plump, gold-muscled creature that would come up to a person's knees. A Makuhita. Only, its body was adorned with countless scars, like it was cross-hatched in wounds. Up its arms, shoulders and torso, there were injuries, old and closed up, decorating it; the Pokémon barely rose to its feet, facing away from us.

Its combatant, I couldn't remotely recognize. But, from first impressions, it was something far more sinister than what I was prepared to face in this cave.

As it first clawed is way out of the shadows, I thought it was just an extension of the darkness of the cave. But, as the splotch across my vision moved out into the light, a faint purple outline distinguished itself across its fur. It crept quietly, strafing around its prey, the Makuhita, with a devious smile, jagged teeth whiter than the stone glowing in the cave's center. Its eyes were geometric like a bug's, only catching the room's light in strange ways. I was fixated on its eyes for too long—they were like diamonds.

Far braver than I was in the face of the unknown creature, the Makuhita charged, outdoing its own exhaustion. With a flurry of blows, it struck towards the Pokémon. But, its fists passed directly through whatever it was fighting. A cackle echoed off the cavern's walls—before long, I discovered the source was from the diamond-eyed creature.

"What the hell is that thing…?" I murmured under my breath.

"_I've never seen that Pokémon._" Spike answered back, in equal disbelief as me. "_Or a Makuhita with so many scars._"

With a final battle cry, the Makuhita lunged itself towards its opponent, only to helplessly pass through them. With catlike reflexes, the unknown Pokémon latched itself to the wall, leaping off for a claw across the rotund fighting-type's face. In spite of the faint light, I could see it drew blood.

Even though it was just the savagery one would expect of nature, something within me screamed to intervene. This felt unnatural.

"It's going to get itself killed—we've gotta help it!"

Like it was instinct, I leapt into action, ripping a Repel from my Bag. The Pokémon were so fixated on their fight, they seemed surprised at my presence, finally made known to them. While the Makuhita laid defeated across the floor, its opponent seemed more curious at my entrance than any form of fear.

For a moment, I worried it would neglect my approach, as it pulled its arm back for another swipe at the Makuhita.

"HEY!" I shouted, the loudest I'd been since barking at Norman.

I ejected the spray from its canister, unloading on the shadowy Pokémon. It reared its head back in disgust of the dust forming around it. With an arc of my arm, I whipped the spray in a cloudy streak across my vision.

For only an instant, my eyes were off the creature. Once they returned, it was gone—out of sight, nowhere to be seen.

My Poochyena was directly by my side, throwing itself into the fray as well. Dazed and confused, I hadn't the slightest clue where the Pokémon escaped to. But, there were more pressing matters—the Makuhita's life. I trusted Spike's eyes, ears and nose to sense where the creature would pop up again. In the meanwhile, I tenderly assessed the fighting-type's condition, holding it above the jagged ground on my crossed-legged lap.

"It's out cold," I remarked, already unloading a Potion over its new scars. "But still alive, by some miracle… Where's the other one?"

I scanned our horizon, as well. Now that I knew there was a Pokémon hiding somewhere, it made the cave feel much, much darker.

"_It disappeared from thin air._" Spike said, almost amazed in her worry. "_There's no trace of it left… I can't tell where it's hiding at all..._"

There was the faintest hint of movement in my periphery. My eyes wouldn't let me believe it; if Spike couldn't tell where the Pokémon was, how could _I _see it before she did? I did my double-take, expecting to see nothing.

As if appearing form thin air, the shadowy creature was unfolding itself, as if appearing from thin air, directly over Spike's head.

"_Jade, I think this thing might be a ghost type—_"

Every part of me went to scream a warning. Before it escaped my mouth, the creature lunged at Spike with an inhuman shriek. Its claws scraped across my Poochyena's face, shutting her right eye and drawing a stream of blood, dripping to the cavern floor. She winced in pain, recoiling from the strike, only to meet several more across her body.

"SPIKE!"

She strained her neck to gnash her teeth into the creature, only to have her head kept stuck in place by the Pokémon's forearm. As I screamed my partner's name, the beast took a brief instant to stare back at me with its crystalline eyes.

It grinned.

Spider-like, it crawled erratically back into a darkened crevice of the cave. With the Makuhita still on my lap, I lifted it with one arm and lunged full-sprint towards the fleeing monstrosity, Spike still grappled by it. Escaping view within the shadows, I was fearful that it disappeared a second time. I collapsed to my knees in the dark corner of the cave, desperately searching for my Pokémon within the sightless void in front of me.

My hands found purchase on a crevice in the floor. There was a hole that led deeper into the cave. It would have been too large to climb through for someone even a few inches taller than me. But—it was doable.

And, if it could be done, I had to.

I first emptied the contents of my Bag, separating any unimportant items; I could always pick them up later. I placed the injured Makuhita into the now-empty pack, slipping it across my back by the shoulder straps. With a surgical accuracy and a violent pace, I tied knots, and knots, and knots in the ropes I bought at the Center. With a brief glance, I found a stalagmite in the ground beside the crevice, instantly deciding _this will do_. Tying one end of the rope to the stone, I attached my torso to the other. And, while it took some finagling through the dark, I managed to slip myself into the crevice, doing everything within my power to give chase to the monster that snatched my Pokémon.

* * *

"…_jade, where are we going…?_"

My Whismur's meek voice practically whistled in my ears. With nothing lighting my descension, it was all I could sense in the uncomfortable, horrifying drop into unknown territory—whatever horrors lied within Granite Cave, they were ahead for us.

"We're saving Spike." I told her, unintentionally stern. I was furious at what happened, dead-set on hunting down the ghost-type and tearing it apart with my own two hands. "That thing is taking her back to wherever it lives."

"_…are you sure she's still alive…?_" Vocaloid asked carefully. "_how do you know tha—_"

"She's alive."

That was the first time I interrupted her. She spoke slowly, and I was too impatient in my frustration to consider the worst-case. I refused to let someone in my party die from a pointless trip to a godforsaken cave.

The rest of my descension was completely silent. I was dropping into God-knows-where, unable to meter my fall or understand where I was headed. Cautiously dropping myself deeper into the fall, I questioned if the ravine was infinite, and if I was headed to the center of the planet. My blindness was catching up with me, making me envision the horrors that lay beyond sight, all around me. What if there were ten, or a hundred, more ghosts surrounding me? What if the crevice got thinner as I dropped, and I was stuck hundreds of feet underground? What if—

I felt my body jostle, as my ankles were met with the floor of the cave. Wherever this drop led, I reached it. Gaining my bearings, I felt the walls to my right and left. I couldn't see, but I could tell this was another dark hallway. Thinking I would have to trek blindly, I was nearly terrified by the light that came from my own belt. Before me, Vocaloid appeared in the cave. I could hear her tiny footsteps beside me.

"_…ok…_" She hummed softly, like she made a rash decision. "_i'm gonna help you find her… my nose is no good, but my hearing is pretty strong…_"

There was something assuring about having my Pokémon out with me on this trip into nothingness. Between her footsteps, and the steadied breathing of the Makuhita in my Bag, I felt safe, suddenly. Like all I needed to keep moving forward was the reminder I wasn't alone with the monsters in this cave. Still far from being brave, I swallowed whatever fears were creeping in the back of my mind as we continued forward.

Because there was nothing else to see, I could have spotted it a mile away. Color, dead ahead. Blues and greens and reds in the cavern walls. The further we traveled, the more the hallway opened up—it could fit _two _people by the time we reached the gemstones in the stone labyrinth surrounding us. Rubies, sapphires and emeralds dotted our surroundings, less aglow than the ivory stone above, but offering enough of a view that I felt like we weren't trekking into an empty void.

"_…there are lots of things down here…_"

Vocaloid's words came as a warning. But, I grew less startled as the nearby figures were made known to us. There were Zubats, Geodudes. Even more Makuhita. There were Pokémon in huddled masses within the crevices ahead. It was hard to be wary of them, when they were clearly far more afraid of _us_. They crept backward into the small coves as we passed, sheepish and silent. None of them dared approach.

"Well, we found the cave's Pokémon…" I mentioned. "It looks like they're hiding from that monster down here. Try to focus on hearing anything scary and strange."

"_…jade…_"

"Yeah?"

"_…i hear something scary and strange…_"

Before I could follow up, my eyes were assaulted by a blinding light, its source only meters away from my face. I stumbled backwards, crashing to the cavern floor, only to be met with two beady, glowing eyes above me. The figure loomed in darkness behind the beaming glow, and I practically squealed in fright (the noise deserved to be described as pathetically as possible—trust me).

My mind went into a frenzy, my only though being _kill the danger_. I sicced Vocaloid on the figure, ordering her to attack at will. Just as I was blinded moments before, I was deafened by the attack that followed, my Whismur's screams amplified by the cavern's echo. Any Pokémon curious enough to observe our trek through their home were _long _gone after our terrible screams. The creature in question stumbled, a direct target of Vocaloid's noise. The light seemed to dim in the intense atmosphere of the scream, long enough for me to notice a key detail.

The figure wasn't a Pokémon at all.

"Wait, WAIT!" I scrambled towards Vocaloid, reaching for her and doing everything I could to silence my Pokémon. "Stop! It's a person!"

Through what little sight I had of my surroundings, I saw the figure stumble backwards into the ravine, falling upon his back in a dark crevice that opened up into a room I hadn't seen earlier. Pulling Vocaloid back into her Pokéball, the cave fell silent once again; seeing the person still moving across the ground was a relief, to say the least. The glow over his eyes came from a strange device that covered the upper half of his face. Filled with guilt, I approached quietly, offering to help them up.

"I'm so sorry… are you alright?"

Now closer to them, I could see a few key details of their person—a boy, a few years older than me; I first assumed he was much, much older because of the silver hair housed atop his head. He wore a dark suit, which only made sneaking up on me that much easier, I'm sure. He pulled back the device over his eyes, revealing bright blue irises that matched the sapphire stones in the walls with their intensity.

Instead of scrambling upward in embarrassment, or taking me up on my offer to his feet, he laid across the ground, _laughing_.

"Oh, wow." He huffed. It was clear he was exhilarated, but not the least bit afraid or angered by my impromptu assault. "Nothing like an Uproar to get the heart racing…"

In one fluid motion, he shot back up to his feet—like my Pokémon's attack was nothing to him. He stood uncomfortably close. Probably because it was the only way to see each other with such little light. Though he was thin, and incredibly pale, I couldn't help but be slightly intimidated.

"Hello there." He welcomed me like this damn cave was his home. "If you don't mind, might I ask what day it is?"

Off-put by the casual question, the answer came later than it should have.

"Sunday…"

"Really." He hummed at the revelation, attention already off me. He paced through the empty ravine in thought, and I was left to watch him. "It was Saturday when I came down here… but it's been way longer than a single day. That must mean it's been _eight_ days? That explains why the food is so scarce."

"What are you doing down here…?" I finally managed to ask.

He looked upwards, at the wall in front of me, neglecting to offer a response. Lost in thought, he wandered through the ravine for a passing instance. The device emitting its two spotlights was placed over the silver hair on his forehead, spotlight soaring up at the wall behind him. Thanks to the glow, I was able to see my first _real _glimpse of my surroundings.

There were paintings etched into the walls. Every wall.

Massive beasts were drawn into the stone. Maybe they were meant to be Pokémon—if they were, the Pokémon they depicted were impossibly large. Compared to the stick figures dispersed throughout the paintings, the monsters in the glyphs were bigger than any Wailord I'd seen or heard about (that was most people's benchmark on how big a Pokémon could get). There were three depictions, as best as I could make out in my limited time and light source. One red, reptilian beast, surrounded by flames dripping from the sky like rainfall. One blue beast with arms like fans, submerged in swirls that were meant to imply some sort of terrible storm. And, a third, green, snake-like being risen above it all, with a deific air.

My new friend's answer to my question only aided my awe and confusion:

"Something that's never been done before, surely."

Just as soon as his attention left me, he turned away from the wall, leaving the space dark once again as the spotlight shifted with his gaze. He paced, and I was at the mercy of his rambling, unsure of what to say in response.

"Although, this passion project has begun to turn into _work_, so I was planning on scrapping the whole thing… You're the first subject of interest in a long while…" With a snap of his fingers, held up over his face, he commanded my attention. "I need a name. I'm terrible with remembering faces."

"Jade."

Although I was at a loss for words, I was picking up on context clues pretty quickly. Unsure of what my aim was, I followed up:

"I'm… guessing you're Steven Stone."

With that revelation, he whipped around to face me again, suddenly, finally, intrigued with me. He scanned my face, analyzing me, similar to Roxanne's demeanor.

"Ah… you know me." He said. "My father?"

Truthfully, I regretted being so loose with information. I had no idea who this stranger was, who I mistook for a monster in a cave. I had no clue why Roxanne wanted me to check in on him, either. In an attempt to avoid getting in over my head, I tried to divert the conversation.

"I've heard of you before…" I explained emptily. "Honestly, I'm just looking for my Pokémon. She was taken from me. By a ghost… I think."

Steven squinted.

"That sounds like a lie."

Even though I wasn't lying, I felt my heartbeat in my ears as he stared.

"No." He followed up. "It's a truth meant to hide a larger truth… I'm interested! Please, let me help you with this rescue, Jade."

"Yeah, sure…"

Unable to deny the invitation, I almost helplessly allowed him to follow me back out of the ravine. I mean, he offered to help.

Unless that was a truth meant to hide a larger truth, too.

We pressed back into the main pathway of the cave, an added party member I hadn't decided to trust yet. Acting like there was a process to this whole rescue, I pressed onward in the direction we were headed before nearly killing Steven. He was a distraction and a half, and I had questions stirring in my head—but I chose to focus instead. Spike was still in danger. Even if this was a deal with a devil, my Pokémon's safety was more important.

Before long, we ran into shadowed masses of creatures in the crevices. Pokémon returned to watch us; their presence was shaky after Vocaloid's scream. I nearly leapt to the ceiling when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Flipping my view towards Steven, he was holding the device he carried out towards me.

"Have a peek," he offered.

I complied like it was a courtesy, reaching for it. The device was oddly heavy, like binoculars between my hands. After a sigh, I held my breath, as if placing the tech over my eyes was akin to submerging underwater. A second passed where I was wary about opening my eyes. But, once I did, my vision was perfect. It was like the sun's rays reached all the way down into the hell we were travelling through.

"Bright as day, isn't it?" Steven asked, able to pick up on my surprise. "Since you're clearly acquainted with my father, this is a product of his company. The Devon Scope."

"Oh yeah?" I answered back, trying my best to distract from his accusation about his father. "Did he invent it?"

"Not exactly—he owns the patent. It's my invention."

This was the moment where I was supposed to ask myself, _who the hell is this guy?_

"Truth be told, it borrows a few functions from the Silph Scope," He continued. "But it's a lovely trainer accessory. You can see in the dark, but it also lets you view invisible forces. Sight beyond sight."

"Meaning…?"

"Simply put, you can see ghosts with that on."

After the layman's explanation, I paid closer attention to my surroundings, scanning across the hordes of Pokémon in the ravine. Most of them were scarred, but nothing like the Makuhita in my Bag.

"The Pokémon you're seeking is called Sableye," Steven said. "Typically, they're low on the food chain in caves, and would never show themselves around humans."

I scoffed at the thought of that creature being terrified of me.

"Yeah, well, this Sableye wasn't typical," I told him.

"Precisely." He quipped back, smile audible through his words. "That's because this habitat has been _tainted_."

"How so?"

"Well, did you encounter the stone at the top of this cave?"

"Yeah…" I recalled. "It gave my Pokémon a bad impression."

"It's called an Everstone. It's a strange mineral that stunts the growth of nearby Pokémon. Meaning, the beasts that live here are unable to evolve, thanks to its influence. Sableye became the king of this habitat because it doesn't evolve in the first place."

That explained my Pokémon's reaction to the stone, at least. It also explained why Geisha, the only evolved member of my team, was no less disturbed by it than I was. Maybe I was meant to understand Steven's explanation scientifically. But, I interpreted it in my own way. All I heard was a big Pokémon was taking advantage of the fact that all the Pokémon around it were _forced _to be smaller.

"These Pokémon are living under tyranny…" I muttered, almost angrily.

"Yes. I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on that." Steven answered back.

With the Devon Scope, I led the expedition, able to see our surroundings clearly. The further we traversed through the ravine, the less frequently my vision was assaulted with the glare of glimmering gemstones in the bedrock. I was halted by a rustling of my Bag. Thinking Steven was grabbing my attention a second time, I turned in surprise to see the Makuhita, scarred head to toe, crawling out of the safe space I created for it. Unable to converse with it, I tried to reach and stop it from falling to the cavern's floor. It resisted, practically shoving my arm out of its way; that interaction alone told me it was stubborn to a fault.

Steven made a hum of discovery at the sight of the Makuhita landing on its feet in front of us; I assumed he recognized it from above-ground. It stared up at me, almost curiously. The Scope over my eyes must have been intimidating, but it acted like it wasn't deterred. Through its body language, and its attempt to walk away from my intent gaze, I picked up that it wanted us to follow it.

"Say, Jade," Steven spoke up behind me. "If you had to guess, which Pokémon type is closest to humans?"

"Uh…" I stammered, thrown off. "Normal-type?"

He laughed so faintly, it could have been classified as a giggle.

"We both know humans are far from normal." Steven said, amused at the thought. "The answer is fighting-type. They're a gene or two away from being human. In a few hundred-thousand years, they might well evolve into _people_."

"Is this going somewhere?"

"I'm saying that Makuhita nearly has a human's wit. I observed it myself. It _learned_ that the Everstone was the source of the Sableye's power. It's tried to destroy the stone at every turn—the only problem is, it stands no chance of fighting a ghost-type."

When I looked at the scarred Makuhita, leading the way through the abyss, I didn't see a few hundred-thousand years between us (it was more like a couple of feet). I _did _see a prideful, bullheaded creature leading us towards the fight it's lost a thousand times on its own. The fact that it could reason like a human, but still overcome losing to the same opponent countless times was something to be admired.

In a similar vein, Steven's explanation spoke more on _his _character, than anything else's. It was obvious his knowledge of Pokémon dwarfed mine considerably. It would be easy to think that he cared deeply about them, but I wasn't convinced. He knew this Makuhita was fighting for its life up above—but he didn't imply that he tried to intervene. Then again, I didn't even know if he owned Pokémon of his own, as crazy a prospect as that would be. Despite how loose-lipped he was, the details surrounding him were impossibly cloudy. I was no closer to understanding why Roxanne had me chase after this guy. Someone who helped me even though he thought I was lying. That seemed dangerous.

Part of me wished I refused his offer, and I made a conscious effort to never see him again. But, that's hindsight for you.

Like I mentioned, my mind was on a single track, and that was rescuing my Poochyena. I wasn't in a place to fix future mistakes—I was at the whim of the most charismatic person I'd ever met, and a Makuhita tattooed in wounds. Through the clarity of the Devon Scope, I could see we were being led to an opening, or what seemed to be a room at the end of this vast expanse. I was grateful for the device my sponsor just so happened to patent; the Makuhita, braver than I, was marching forward blindly, vendetta in its heart.

Seeing that there was a dead end in the cavern we entered, I trailed the Makuhita at a much more wary distance, Pokéballs in hand. Steven's promise that I could _see ghosts _with this damn thing seemed vain, considering there were no ghosts to be seen yet. What struck me about the room was how empty it felt. But, that turned out to be woefully wrong.

I could hear her before I saw her.

"_Jade…?_"

My Pokémon's voice reached my head, because her Pokéball was still at my side. I clutched it, like the radio that picked up a stranded victim. After the faintest, most fleeting surge of gratitude, I returned to my panicked scan of the room.

"Spike!" I called, forcing out a whisper too loud for my own good. "Where are you?!"

"_Close… Be careful, it's close, too…_"

It was hard to tell at first, because the voice wasn't really coming from a direction. Eventually, I spotted Spike, flung across the backmost corner of the cave, hide scratched up along the side. I couldn't see in color with the Scope, but I _felt _the red highlights of blood up her obsidian fur, eye still shut from the three-trailed scrape across it.

I instinctively approached my wounded friend, only for a wash of worry to paralyze my movements. While I was glad beyond belief to see Spike was still alive, there was a rational piece of my mind that made me question:

_Why _was she still alive?

I had only just learned the Sableye's name, so there was no sense trying to break down its eating habits. But, Vocaloid wasn't exactly wrong to assume that Spike _should _have been eaten the second she was torn away from our sight. My eyes began to dart around the cavern, doing my best detective work to decide why Spike was left unattended by the Sableye. Steven's explanation was fresh in my mind—some Pokémon could reason just as well as a human could.

She was bait.

That was my guess. The first one today that was right.

My first instinct was to turn back towards the entrance, back where we came from. I mistook it for gas at first—maybe it technically was. There was a cloud of particles, buzzing around in an amorphous blob, swaying in the windless space. Even though it seemed like anything but, I could tell it was _alive_. Perhaps based on how it was moving.

Perhaps because I thought I could make out a face in the gas.

After fixating on it, the gaseous form appeared agitated, frozen in the air where it floated. There was a curiosity to it—like the Sableye was questioning, _can she really see me…? _It must have seemed as impossible as it sounded. Though I was standing still as a statue, eyes primed on its movements, it continued its course.

Its course overhead of my company, that is.

Moving too quickly would have scared it off. Trying to convey danger as best as I could with my face, I reached into my Bag at a molasses pace.

"Steven—" I urged with a quiet hiss. "It's…"

He couldn't see it without his Devon Scope. But, he seemed impossibly calm, despite my racing heart and urgent expression pointed at him. His shoulders didn't tense in the slightest, and he didn't reach for anything to defend himself.

Instead, a smile. He held an open palm outward, like a stewardess on a flight, presenting the air above him, calmly asking:

"It's here, right? That's what your face is telling me, anyway."

As the Sableye positioned itself out of sight above him, its face was becoming more distinct in the gaseous state I could perceive. Its familiar fang-filled grin and diamond eyes became textured and solid, like fog freezing into solid ice. Arms crept out the side of the formless steam of a Pokémon, wrapping themselves around his outline in the cave.

"Steven—!" I snapped, much more erratic the second time.

"Don't worry." He assured (unconvincingly, in my opinion). "It can't attack us without regaining its physical form. Meaning, if you wait for the right opening…"

It was frustrating. I could_ see_ the opening as he was explaining it, the Sableye's claws and fangs granted dimension as it reappeared in the cave. Inches away from dealing the same caliber of damage it dealt to my Poochyena, I had to act before Steven's nonchalance got him killed. Scope over my eyes, I had no clue if my Pokémon could see what it needed to attack. Either way, I wouldn't leave much of a gray area. Releasing my tension with a volatile whip of my arm, I tossed a Pokéball with the highest speed and precision I could manage, directly towards the ghost-type in the cave above us.

"Willow!"

The flash of the Pokéball blinded me. The Devon Scope's view went completely white, burning my eyes as I winced and staggered from the pain. I ejected myself out of the device to ease my senses. As I did, I realized what happened.

There was no need for night vision.

A green glow reflected off the rugged textures of the cavern walls and ceiling, accenting the entire space with the familiar light of my Pokémon. I could see everything—Steven, the Makuhita, the wounded Spike. And, in the center of it all, I saw the midair clash between my Treecko and the Sableye.

"_You'll pay for what you've done!_"

The beast was clearly caught off-guard by the attack. From its point of view, despite being perfectly hidden, there was a blinding light, and it was suddenly being grappled by a green menace. I watched it try to writhe free, wrists clasped motionlessly from Willow's tight grapple. The same hands he used to climb trees to impossible heights crushed down upon the Sableye. My Treecko focused on its attack, pinning the ghost to the floor as the green energy strobed through the vacant cave.

Between the Sableye's shrieks, I heard Steven make a remark. I wasn't sure if he intended me to hear it. Either way, his fascination was clear.

"Oh…? An endangered species… And you've given it an adorable nickname… "

In spite of my worry, the Sableye's resistance gradually weakened. Caught off-guard by Willow's burst out of his Pokéball, it was rendered helpless beneath my Treecko. The dimming of the green light clued me in on the ghost-type's wellbeing, depleting with each second Willow locked it down on the rugged floor. Unable to disappear in time, the Sableye was subdued in the center of the room.

There was no time for praise, as far as I was concerned. Once the room fell dark again, I equipped the Devon Scope, muddling through my Bag for Potions. Racing towards Spike to heal her, my focus was on that mission alone.

I couldn't afford to think about it until later, but my eyes caught the Makuhita as I passed. It stood in the room, the only body remaining motionless throughout the madness. It stared at Willow pinning the Sableye to the floor, long past the fight's conclusion, past the point of visibility, frozen in time. I could only imagine what it was thinking—its world just got uprooted. The ghost it fought against in futility, defeated in an instant by a random, passerby trainer.

As I scrambled, and as Steven applauded a mission's success, the Makuhita continued to stare, arms slumped to its sides. If it could think like a human, it surely had a full plate to process after today.

* * *

I had never been so happy to be above ground on our return trip. Probably because I've never been underground before, either.

Passing back through the ravine, we garnered the attention of the local Pokémon—this time, they were far less afraid to follow behind. The Sableye that ruled over them was usurped; Steven managed to catch it in a Great Ball, the first sign that he had _any _Pokémon since I met him. A crowd of the cave-dwelling critters, the Makuhita amidst them, snuck behind several dozen feet as we reached my rope at the end of the ravine. Willow was the first to scuttle back up to the surface, grumbling about his sudden summoning. I followed, with Steven carrying Spike in his arms behind me.

Grateful that the Devon Scope became obsolete, thanks to the Everstone illuminating our surroundings, I tore to the surface in exhaustion, wishing I could collapse across the rocky floor and sleep the rest of the day away. Allotting enough room for Steven to follow upwards as well, I returned to my panic upon getting a detailed view of my Poochyena, now wounded in full color.

"Spike…" I stopped myself from gasping. "Your eye!"

"_It's nothing…_" she answered. That was far from the truth.

Though the rest of her body was ravaged by bloody trenches of claw marks, her right eye was forced shut, and seemed to be the most irreparable wound. We managed to elude the immediate danger of the Sableye—but, it appeared that there was a cost for our careless trek through the cave. Between Steven's crossed arms, her condition was stable; regardless, through ragged breaths, she huffed out a defeated apology.

"_I'm sorry I got caught…_"

Baffled past words, I wasn't sure what to say. My Pokémon thought it needed to apologize for being ambushed and permanently scarred. I underestimated the weight of responsibility riding on Spike's shoulders. She thought she had to lead the group because there weren't any better options. Being humiliated by the Sableye was only that much more crushing. Careful of sensitive scars, I placed a palm on the side of her face, thumb across the back of her ear, offering the most assuring smile I could.

"Don't be," I told her. "You got put in danger trying to keep everyone safe… you're the best leader they could hope for."

I'm not a very comforting person by nature. But, I think Spike could tell that I meant every word I said, and it must have been helpful to hear. Her remaining open eye softened slightly, like the weight she felt was lessened, even if it was only a little.

Vision panning upward, I saw Steven staring at me while I spoke with my Pokémon. His eyebrow was raised, but it wasn't ridicule. If I had to pin the emotion, it was a smug form of reverence.

"Just when I thought the wonders would cease. She speaks to the animals."

Gaze averted, I turned towards my Treecko, noticing in my periphery that he was trailing off from our group; the last time that happened, someone got snatched by a ghost, so it's hard to blame someone for being paranoid. I was surprised to discover his destination, approaching the Everstone in the center of the jagged room.

"_We can dish out the compliments once this job is done,_" he said, curling his tail back like a cocked fist. "_The pest is gone, but the problem isn't solved until the source is destroyed._"

Launching himself at the white gemstone propped upward, Willow landed a devastating blow, the impact echoing off the cavern walls. From the strike, the Everstone crumbled, the dust and pebbles collapsing inward. It looked like it would have fallen apart from any glancing blow, similar to a windshield. It was fascinating how such a fragile stone could cause so many problems to an ecosystem; the Sableye was lucky it was a perfect counter to the Makuhita that discovered its secret.

As the light of the Everstone faded upon its destruction, I thought things would fall dark in the cave around us. Before I could reach for the Devon Scope, there were bright flashes all around us. Startled, I reached for my Bag, expecting another wild Pokémon to ambush us. Turning my attention to the source, I saw something astounding.

Mass evolution.

The local Pokémon, the same sheepish creatures too scared to come into contact with us, followed us to the surface, members of their crowd glowing after the destruction of the Everstone. Zubats to Golbats, Geodudes to Gravelers. The habitat was far from broken without the Sableye; it was rebalanced and repaired. Amidst the crowd, I saw a bravery and confidence surfacing within the once oppressed Pokémon.

To my total shock, Willow was amongst the glowing specimens.

Familiar with the process, I watched with the same excitement as spectating Geisha shift forms twice before my eyes. Willow's bright white figure grew to twice its original size before the light scattered with a sparkle. From the shine of creatures evolving in hordes all around us, I saw the taller, lankier green-and-red Pokémon standing in his place. Off his body, there were leaf-like protrusions coming off his arm's joints, edged like blades. A leaflike streak swept off his head, swooping over his back.

"_…Oh._"

That was my Grovyle's reaction to the monumental moment.

"Fascinating!" Steven hummed beside us. "Your Treecko was primed to evolve all this time, but was halted due to the Everstone's influence."

My celebration and words of affirmation were primed, ready to shower Willow in a flood of praise. But, he deflected my attention, turning aside and approaching Steven, of all people. More accurately, he stood before him, using his new height as a vantage, staring down at the wounded Poochyena in his arms.

Spike seemed ashamed, maybe even embarrassed. She wouldn't meet his gaze, not astounded in the slightest by his evolution. From her perspective, it probably felt like she was falling behind her worst enemy.

"_Let me guess._" She said. "_A lecture about how I was in over my head?_"

"_We're well past that, pup._"

My Grovyle pressed a palm against the side of her body. Through concentration, a green glow filled the room, overpowering the evolutionary hum of light surrounding us. It was a softer color than his usual attacks, and calmer in its aura. Steven and I, the two human bystanders, stood by in complete fascination of the process. Upon taking his hands away, Willow revealed a healed Spike beneath them. The blood was gone, and the scars were hidden beneath her fur (with the exception of the claw marks across her eye).

"_A little bit of life energy, from the Sableye to you._"

Steven tenderly lowered the Poochyena to the floor, where her feet found purchase. She was able to stand all on her own, equally amazed at what had transpired. Answering to the kind gesture in her own way, her following remark was much more subdued.

"_…I thought you said you wouldn't save me._"

Willow's new, bladed arms folded.

"_Well, aren't you grateful I had a change of heart._"

The exchange was far from wholesome, but it warranted a smile. It was still wishful thinking that the two could become friends—at least they felt like teammates. Watching them like a proud parent, I felt a nudge on my elbow. I turned to see Steven gesturing towards the mouth of the cave.

"Jade, if I could suggest our exit. Stage left."

We walked off from my Pokémon; I made sure to keep an eye on them, in case Steven was planning something nefarious. The further we trailed back towards the Dewford beaches, the more sunlight was allotted in from the cavern entrance.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, hurrying it along.

"You've done a wonderful thing here today," he started, eyes trained on the light ahead. "If you ask me, Hoenn is no different from this cave."

Not exactly the conversation I was expecting. He held the Great Ball, containing his newly-caught ghost type, out of his jacket before returning it a moment later.

"The person in charge of this region is like this Sableye—he's only important because he's made everyone around him _less _important." I watched his hands raise out in front of him, like he was holding some unforeseen object. They closed into fists, almost longingly. "People can be so much _more._"

If there was any doubt, I discarded it. Steven was doing big things in this small cave. He was someone worth hunting down—it was no wonder Devon and Roxanne agreed on that. I wondered if Brendan would have gotten _half _the mileage I had by hanging out with Steven for a day.

I couldn't help housing an odd suspicion, though. Even though we were standing right beside each other in the cave, it felt like we were worlds apart. Despite being the reason I saved Spike, Steven was never really _present_ throughout the rescue. His head was in the clouds, eyes on the future—his body was just playing catch-up, torn between dreams and goals and strung along by my little adventure in the meanwhile.

Even _before_ I knew what his deal was, I did not like that I caught his attention.

"There's so much I want to share with you," he said, making it clear there was a catch. Whatever ambitious rant he began, he avoided finishing, taking upon a more casual posture, hands in his jacket pockets. "But, I'm a man of many secrets. And I'm not the kind of person who shares a half-baked idea."

I understood the weight of what he was talking about. But, I was never the one for politics or protests. Instead of giving in and saying _fuck the establishment_, I offered a shrug at his mystery and secrecy.

"Is that supposed to bother me? You can keep your secrets. I'll keep mine."

He smiled, blue eyes shut.

"Ah… I love people that I can't trust. By the way, I bet it was Roxanne."

I froze in place.

"Come again?"

"The real reason you're here," he said, clearly amused at my reaction. My surprise must have been a dead giveaway. "Just a hunch."

It was opportunistic, but I took my shot:

"I'll trade the answer for your Devon Scope."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of taking it back from you," he assured me.

"Then I guess I'll keep the freebie."

I wouldn't discover this until much later, but we weren't the only ones leaving the cave in that moment. A few dozen feet back, the intrigued Makuhita followed, unevolved even after the Everstone's influence faded. It was single-mindedly focused on me; I wasn't sure if it was because I healed it, saved its home, or just because I was just _that _much of a Pokémon magnet.

A lot will happen in the next day. The details are foggy, and many things will escape me. But, there's one thing I'm certain happened. Eventually, I found out the Makuhita was following us. I welcomed her on the team, and named her Yokozuna.


	15. Lorekeeper's Journal: Volume 3

**Lorekeeper's Journal: Volume Three **

There's more to this story than meets Jade's eyes.

* * *

_Kanto region, open ocean._

_ Off the coast of Cinnabar. _

_Monday, 5:57 a.m. _

_Brawly resumes his usual morning routine, wading out to sea on his surfboard. He awoke early to catch the proper tide. At age sixteen, he has nothing to do with his world, a free spirit in every sense. _

_His parents taunt him on the weekends for having too much free time. He's never had a job, and he's too young for the draft, so they're being playful. Brawly is a sensitive boy, and takes everything people say about him to heart. Surfing is his only alone time, and he spends it in deep thought, doing his best to relax. _

_5:58 a.m._

_Brawly reaches his usual spot, and feels a sudden relief upon arrival. As a creature of habit, he does his best to make sure his home is out of sight while he surfs. His hands slide through the ocean's surface, fearless towards the Pokémon in the depths below. The scariest thing is a nasty sting from a Tentacool—nothing to fret over._

_His life has been peaceful, and he's grateful for it. But, in his peace, there is boredom. And, a recently-blossoming loneliness. In schooling and in Pokémon battles, he has been a cut above the people his age. His friends have always been older. Now, they're all gone. With the draft, it's been hard for him to keep in touch with them. _

_In the angsty life of a young man, there is no time to think about the war. _

_5:59 a.m._

_He's dreamed of traveling abroad his whole life, and seeing what the world has to offer. He hasn't decided on a region he'd rather be—but he knows he doesn't belong in Kanto. The daily pressure for a job well done is too much for the carefree teen to handle. _

_Bringing it up with his parents will be the biggest hurdle, since they want to keep him as close to home as possible. He's never been on Kanto's mainland, let alone the rest of the world. Amongst his peers, he works the least but has the most skill for Pokémon battles. Teachers and senior Trainers have told him his whole life._

"_You'll be a good soldier," they say._

_But he doesn't want to be a soldier._

_He wants to be a trainer. _

_Brawly has the same thought he did every time he went surfing miles out from Cinnabar. He wishes the world was as peaceful as his life on Cinnabar is. _

_6:00 a.m._

_Right on schedule._

_The Red Chain drops. _

_First, the skyline dims. It comes to him in the form of a crimson strand, encircling his horizon, parting the morning clouds and blackening the rising sun to the east. There's a stillness to the ocean he's never felt before; not a wave in sight. Like he was floating atop a pond. No signs of life. The Pokémon have fled. His hair is on end, and a chilling breeze skids off the ocean's surface. The slicing wind is menacing, and he inhales, filling his chest with the razor-like tempest surrounding him. _

_There's a rumble, like a terrible storm is brewing. _

_But, there is no weather. Only the Chain._

_6:01 a.m._

_A horrible, deafening roar as the blast descends. _

_The ear-piercing screech sends Brawly's senses into disarray. The explosion was strangely mournful in tone, like a massive beast howling in loss. The waves become uneven as the planet is ruptured by the destruction, ferrying the young man through intense waves. Every fiber of him struggles to remain afloat on the violent seas. _

_Brawly fears for his life for the first time. _

_ As he realizes the dense pillar of light was aimed at Cinnabar, he fears for other's lives for the first time, too. _

_ 6:02 a.m._

_ 6:03 a.m._

_ 6:04 a.m._

_ 6:05 a.m._

_ There is nothing. _

_ Brawly stares at the cloud, still rocketing spires of fierce energy like rockets in every direction, a volatile hum and shock brewing on the surface of what once was Cinnabar. He cannot hear, and can only barely see. The attack was over as quickly as it began. And, there was nothing for Brawly at the end of it. His morning grows silent once again, the same empty, quiet atmosphere as always. Only, his world was turned upside-down. _

_ Although he was alive for sixteen years before the Red Chain, this was where his life truly began. This was the beginning of Brawly, The Man Without a Region. When he was changed into the man the world would come to know him as._

* * *

_ Hoenn does not exist in a vacuum, no matter how badly it wished it did. _

_ It's one region amongst many, an ever-growing number. I'm sure it won't be long until the next one is founded. Most regions have the same system in place, their single unifying quality—a Pokémon League. Like Hoenn, the rest of the world has Gym Leaders. The rest of the world has Champions too; as blasphemous as it would sound to some, Steven was not the strongest trainer in the world. There were countless Champions just like him. _

_ But, like anything, not all regions, and Champions, are equal. _

_ Steven became Champion for a day. What power did he have? For one, he had access to the region's vast information network—its secrets. Beyond that, he had influence… but not power. For twenty-four hours, he spearheaded the Pokémon League. But the League didn't have to listen to a word he said, if they found his decisions unfavorable. Hoenn is too large for a single person to control—most of the land is delegated to Gym Leaders. _

_ Put simply, Hoenn's Pokémon League is a democracy, at least on paper. Other regions have similar governments. Unova. Galar. _

_ So, what am I trying to tell you?_

_ I'm trying to tell you that the Kanto region is NOT like this. _

_ They have a Pokémon League calling the shots. But, the shots they call are unlike any other. Their Champion is far from a symbolic position—it's a rank of actual power. The Kanto region is an oligarchy, where their "king" is the trainer with the strongest team of six Pokémon in the entire country. _

_ Kanto is different from other regions in a second, equally-important way. Most regions are founded on a single landmass (in Hoenn's case, an archipelago). The Kanto region shares its landmass with another region—Johto. Put any two countries together, and they'll inevitably learn to hate each other as time passes. As was the case with these regions. _

_ Kantonians believe that strength is an important quality in leadership. They also have a longstanding, bitter hatred of the Johto region. _

_ Mix those together, and you have the ingredients for the biggest war in history. _

_ The Sinnoh-Kanto Conflict. _

_ How does the death of thousands happen? The first step, a new Champion rises to power in the Kanto region. The second step, he approaches the podium in the Hall of Fame with hatred in his heart for Johto. The third step, the Pokémon League becomes militarized. _

_ The final step, a full-scale invasion of the Johto region. The first time in centuries a region has neglected treaties between others._

_ I'll spare you the details of the invasion. Your mind can easily craft the scene from the circumstances. Kantonian men and women, reaching the shores of New Bark Town, carrying the League's finest killing machines on their belts. From there, a war path entrenched into the heart of Johto, as Kanto carved a trail straight through the countryside. By the time they took Goldenrod City, Johto's League was on the brink of collapse, and they were forced into a surrender within a month of conflict._

_ The strong conquer the weak. This law of nature, which Pokémon abide by, rang true in the start of the war. To this day, writers and scholars cite this prejudiced act as proof that humans are no better than Pokémon. _

_ For a decade, stories of the Johto natives' suffering and mistreatment were covered up by the unified region, which was reshaped on the map. Rather than a landmass split down the middle, it was changed to be 'Kanto'. Kanto, and nothing else. _

_ Through it all, a question arises. How do the other regions treat a nation committing crimes against humanity? Unlike Kano, the rest of the world had Leagues founded through governments that put its people's interests first. The belief that a war against Kanto would be far too expensive—both in monetary value and human life—was widespread amongst the other regions. So, they all adopted the same strategy. Cut all ties with Kanto, block all trade, and hope that the issue solves itself. _

_ Ten years._

_ That was how long the world turned a blind eye to the issue. _

_ Humans are no better than Pokémon. _

_ But, no victory satiates a thirst for power. Kanto's Champion wanted more. Seeing his home double in size must have been an addictive feeling. He must have sat alone, in his home, looking at the world map longingly, wondering:_

_ What if it ALL was Kanto?_

_ The Champion, in all the injustice he conducted, made the biggest mistake of his life. _

_ Cinnabar Island was known for its luscious vacation homes and fishing export. That inconspicuous reputation made it a perfect home of the research the Champion demanded. A band of scientists was entrusted with a project, something that no one else in the region was ever told about._

_ It was ambitious. It was terrifying. It was the most delicious of crimes, the most tempting injustice. A taboo that existed throughout the world. _

_ An attempt at weaponizing a legendary Pokémon. _

_ In all history, there has never been a force more destructive than the creatures that inhabited the world far before humans ruled. If Kanto's Champion planned to expand his empire across waters, he would need a power that other regions couldn't hope to contest. In some places in the world, legendary Pokémon were as Gods. Using that level of might against innocent citizens would incite a fear never-before-seen. _

_ The hiccup in Kanto's plan came in the form of a whistleblower. There was a group of researchers, a small fraction of the team, who saw the moral outrage in weaponizing the force of nature. In Kanto, they were helpless to change anything. They were forced to encrypt the message, and send it abroad, to a region with the resources necessary to snuff out this doomsday project before it was off the ground. _

_ Their message required the utmost of secrecy; if their names were released to the public, the scientists would be slaughtered as traitors. So, they communicated abroad with the codename Fuji. The call for help would come to be known as the Fuji Telegram. _

_ It was sent to a longstanding ally of the Johto region. And, within the afternoon, the Sinnoh region declared war on Kanto. _

_ There was an unprecedented unanimous approval rating for the war amidst Sinnoh's citizens. It was a land rich in culture and seeped in tradition. Most people were practiced Arceists, and saw the weapon Kanto was creating as blasphemous. _

_ Sinnoh's League deployed trainers on Kanto's beaches that same year. _

_ I could write a lifetime of stories about this battle between two region's egos. There were heroes and villains on both sides of the conflict. Every ground gained were lives lost. Every body that was lost in the conflict, a compendium of war stories lost to time. _

_ But a Lorekeeper's job is not to be an authority on history. _

_ We are not war reporters. We tell stories, and this is not a tale about grand-scale battles between war-torn regions._

_ This is a tale about the hubris of regions. _

_Kanto was not the only region marred by hypocrisy. Sinnoh was as equally human. _

_And humans are no better than Pokémon. _

_ A decision was made by Sinnoh's Pokémon League. Since Kanto's use of a legendary Pokémon was unheard of, there was no precedent for a war crime of that caliber. They determined the punishment after two years of deliberation. They deemed the choice ingenious—it would be the future's perfect war deterrent. _

_ And so, it was written: _

_ "In the event that a region weaponizes a Pokémon of legendary or mythical scale, it grants the other allied regions permission, for the sake of human interest, to weaponize their own legendary Pokémon in pursuit of ending all arisen conflict."_

_ Project Red Chain was born. _

_ It was much more public than Kanto's attempt. There was a rally, and subsequent draft, for Sinnoh's finest scientists to join the war cause. These highly-qualified researchers were granted teams of powerful Pokémon from their League, and tasked with the capture of three of Sinnoh's local legends. The trio were well-known in Sinnoh, and the subject of countless myths. One prevailing tale suggested that these Pokémon were gift-givers, and the reason people grew and evolved to become humans. _

_ Azelf, the being of willpower._

_ Uxie, the being of knowledge._

_ Mespirit, the being of emotion. _

_ The regime of scientists, titled Team Galactic, was successful in their capture of the legends, and immediately resumed research in the source of their psychic abilities. _

_ Project Red Chain involved several complicated, uncomfortable steps, the first of which were the Pokémon's capture, and subsequent removal from their biomes. From there, they endured countless tests and experiments, at the scientist's requests, in order to understand the creatures as best they could. In essence, they were practically dissected. Once it became possible to influence and manipulate the energy they produced naturally, it was mass-produced and shipped in canisters to the Pokémon League. For this brief time, and only for this brief time, Team Galactic was hailed as the heroes of Sinnoh. _

_ In everyone's minds, they invented the first war deterrent. _

_ In reality, they invented the first weapon of mass destruction. _

_ The League decided that a simple warning would do no good—Kanto was far too war-hungry for anything short of a demonstration to force them into surrender. After a great deal of deliberation by the region's Champion and her trusted advisors, a location was decided upon. It was chosen for its distance from the mainland and comparatively limited population. Worse yet, it was harshly poetic. _

_Cinnabar Island. _

_ Sinnoh notified its enemy properly of the Red Chain's arrival, even offering the time, date and location of the weapon's use. Kanto's leaders, too prideful and stubborn to act on baseless claims, failed to inform its citizens of the imminent destruction. _

_ That final display of hubris costed countless lives, as an explosion that descended upon Cinnabar claimed the entire island, and the ocean surrounding it. The dense light that filled the air for thousands of feet upward was visible from the Indigo League, Kanto's acting capital. The blast was audible from the Hoenn region, across the map. _

_ Needless to say, it was the immediate cause for Kanto's surrender. The war was ended in a single day—all because the weapon operated exactly as intended. _

_ Or, perhaps it exceeded expectations._

_ The blast certainly atomized anything, and anyone, too close to the drop site, leaving nothing but the shadows of objects for a half-mile radius. But there were unexpected repercussions that weren't immediately apparent._

_ Project Red Chain was essentially a compact bomb of psychic energy, extracted from Sinnoh's legendary trio. While the scientists were able to chemically understand the creatures, their test-drop on Cinnabar taught them something far more dangerous. _

_ Azelf, Uxie, and Mespirit's titles were far from archaic myths. _

_ Survivors on the island suffered a mass amnesia, which varied from person to person. Some couldn't remember the past few weeks—others forgot there was even a war to begin with. People forgot they had gotten married, had children, or even being born altogether. The initial rescue attempts were slowed significantly by the victims, as well. Rather than a fearful response to the destruction around them, eager of rescue, they were aimless. Bodies wandered the island emptily, numb to their surroundings. They weren't terrified of what happened. They weren't sad at what was lost. They weren't happy about being saved. They felt nothing. Worse yet, the victims lacked all restraint and self-control. Though they grew numb to all stimuli, they acted ferally, despite any injury or attempt at hospitality by first responders. Living on instinct, they were a danger to everything around them, including each other. _

_ Sinnoh's legendary trio was mistreated, tortured, and researched for two years. In that time, they fostered a hatred of humans, which manifested in the psychic power Team Galactic siphoned for Project Red Chain. _

_ In short, the bomb was not just a weapon. It was a punishment. _

_ The people hit with the bomb were robbed of knowledge, emotion and willpower. _

_ Essentially, they were stripped of humanity. _

_ Humans are no better than Pokémon—_

_ No. _

_ They're far worse. _

_ As the details of the bomb's destruction were released, the world was silent. Though the war was ended with Kanto's surrender, there was no celebration. The various Pokémon Leagues were put to work immediately. _

_ Even before the surrender was officiated, a new treaty was presented and approved unanimously. The use of any legendary Pokémon would be a war crime—regardless of if it was in response to another region's injustice. Should the world hear of a region breaking this pact, the world should unify against that region. _

_ The names behind the Fuji Telegram were never released. Regardless, they cooperated with the relief effort offered by the Sinnoh region to restore Johto to a functioning country. One of the scientists went on to research Pokémon. Another went on to become a Gym Leader under Kanto's reformed League. Another remains in Lavender Town, where many war heroes are buried, fixated on the dead past. _

_Sinnoh's Champion, Cynthia, chose to disband Team Galactic, forbidding them on any further research on legendary Pokémon. The decision was met with mixed response by the researchers; nevertheless, Azelf, Uxie and Mespirit were returned to their habitats. The myths involving the gifts they bestowed upon humanity were replaced with the horror stories of what the creatures were truly capable of. Cynthia, a world-renowned name, leads a life of personal shame, doing everything she can to avoid the spotlight placed on her region, and its role as the first world superpower. In what little interviews she's appeared in following the war, she's expressed a great remorse for what she allowed to happen. In her eyes, too empty to cry, people have described the responsibility to thousands expressed through them, staring blankly in every on-camera appearance. _

_Kanto's research teams were also disbanded. Their goal, to genetically clone a local legend, was successful—only too late. And, so, Mewtwo was placed in a habitat where human influence was strictly prohibited. _

_The world's other regions responded differently to the end of the war. For Hoenn, it was the beginning of their isolationism. To this day, it is the only region with closed borders, relying entirely on its own to supply its people with meaningful lives. Fearful of what the world was capable of, Hoenn tried its best to become its own world, a set of islands and seas that would satiate even the most ambitious children born across the region._

* * *

_Brawly's family were among the casualties from the Red Chain. _

_ He was led to believe they were killed by the explosion; that was a merciful lie he was told. They were amidst the folks stripped of all knowledge, willpower and emotion—they could only be loosely classified as 'human' anymore. The first responders were crafty enough to recognize that the young man, already devastated beyond the point of words, would not be able to handle this crushing news. To this day, it has remained a secret to him. _

_ He was among a few unharmed survivors—the remainder being fishermen out to sea at the time of the explosion. They were close enough to experience the blast, but too far out to be affected by it. They were considered the lucky bunch. _

_ Brawly did not feel so lucky. _

_ Part of the treaty, decided upon by the world's regions, was a relief effort for the war-torn Kano. It was an act of benevolence, as everyone recognized that innocent lives were lost over the end of the conflict. There were misplaced people, and disillusioned soldiers, who had nowhere left to call home. _

_ So, it was encouraged that all regions accept refugees with open arms. _

_ More accurately, it was enforced._

_ The Hoenn region was NOT happy about these sanctions._

_ As a country that isolated itself from the rest of the world, its people believed the Kantonian immigrants were a penalty imposed upon them. They were already amidst an energy crisis—there was not enough to power people's homes. Yet, the world tossed more people into the fray; they were sent the defeated, the lost, the helpless, the people in most need of help. That only furthered the strain felt by the populace. _

_ After the bomb, of the loss of his family, of his future, of the life he envisioned for himself. After everything Brawly went through, he was met with abhorrent boos and slander upon leaving the boat and reaching Hoenn soil. Crowds surrounding the descent off their ship, rallying and rioting at the unwelcome inclusion of bodies on their shore. They were cut off by the world's problems, and yet the world kept creeping in through their borders. In its solitude, Hoenn became harshly independent, and woefully xenophobic. _

_ All the while, Brawly's flame was further stoked. _

_ His life was set on fire, and the hatred only added gas, until the burns became permanent. Brawly was fully realized as The Man Without a Region. _

_ He would never surf again, let alone relax. Every day of his life became unapologetic hard work. Brawly tempered his body, making it a fine-tuned weapon. His Pokémon became a powerful regime under his harsh standards. The world took everything from him. But, the Red Chain failed to take three essential things._

_ His knowledge. He would never forget what happened. _

_His emotions. He felt a surplus of rage. _

_His willpower—_

_He was a fucking trainer. _

_In a region he was not welcome, he was capable enough to become a Gym Leader, recognized by the League. People no longer berate him. They fear him. No longer the carefree soul that floated outside Cinnabar, he takes his work exceedingly seriously, and is willingly brazen to everyone around him. _

_ By some miracle, Steven tricked him into opening up about his life story. And now, that life story is passed onto me._

_ I have little interest in the legendary Pokémon of other regions. But, tales of their might are enough to keep me up at night. To think this world can create such monsters. _

_ And somehow, humans are even worse._

_ "Brawly makes my list," Steven told me. "Not because I think he's better than me. But, he has nothing left to lose. That's as dangerous as someone can get."_

* * *

In Dewford Town, Brawly groaned in frustration as his Gym's lights dimmed.

They flickered on occasion, making it hard for the Leader to complete his strength training, the bars he lifted barely visible in front of his face. The island's grids were archaic, even by Hoenn's standards. The hick town in the middle of the ocean was low on the region's list of ever-growing priorities.

In recent years, funding was cut for the Dewford Gym. The League was tightening its belt, and Brawly's Gym was the least-frequented in all of Hoenn. But, that was a self-fulfilling prophecy—the League _put _his Gym there in the first place. Brawly hated the desolate placing. He hated how poorly-resourced it was. He hated the awful record of his Gym as a result.

But, there was something about Dewford he hated above everything else. It was coastal, which meant the sea was inescapable from view. No matter where he went in the town he governed, there was no avoiding being brought back to Cinnabar, back to surfing as the bomb dropped. He was a storm of complex emotions, all packaged tightly into an anger that fumed outwards towards everyone and everything.

The locals were no more warm towards him, either. While it was only a rumor as time passed, a whisper that he wasn't from Hoenn was enough to make people suspicious. He was brazen towards citizens, and that made him the source of petty gossip across the coast. If he was a foreigner, they had to believe that _he _was the reason their town was so short on energy. No Kantonian could handle their island, they thought. So, while Brawly brooded in every corner of Dewford, his Gym and League career failing, the Dewford denizens could only silently hate him in return.

The only time their closed-off hearts didn't hate him was when they _needed _him.

That morning, their gossip about Brawly's origin was muted, and overpowered by a shocking, far more dastardly rumor. A Dewford fisherman went onto the northern route to provide for the town, only to come back with the shocking news. For as much as Dewford hated Brawly, they feared him. And, that fear led to a trust, that he could keep them safe from something they feared far more.

The locals knew where to find him. Ever-frustrated, he spent his days inside his Gym, venting all internal rage with intensive workouts. His Pokémon noticed the entrance of the locals; but, they were trained to silence, and did not notify their trainer. The news Dewford passed onto Brawly only soured his mood.

A sighting of Steven fucking Stone.

Off what little information he received, the Leader barged out the front of his Gym, unabashedly bolting towards the edge of town, Pokéballs strapped over his shoulder. The people of Dewford already disliked him; he had no qualms causing a ruckus.

Besides, he was furious beyond reason.

Brawly had nothing left to take seriously beyond his job. The League gave him the rank of Gym Leader, and he was the most stern of the bunch. In their meeting, he berated the other Leaders for being so lax about Steven Stone's disappearance. He had worked the hardest to look for him, the traitor that abandoned the League a day after he conquered it. To think, he would have been hidden on Dewford's island—it was a terrible look for the Leader with the worst Gym record.

Trailblazing down the beach, Brawly strode with an angry confidence. This was his chance to prove that all the hard work had been worth it. The League's number-one enemy, defeated at the hands of a foreigner the League already wrote off. Since Steven had abandoned the League, he had trained every day, alongside his Pokémon. He was too weak to call himself Steven's rival when they were up-and-comers. He made great leaps in strength as a Gym Leader to change that.

Sure enough, he was exactly where the fisherman said. Seeing Steven Stone standing so casually on the beach was like watching a ghost frolic freely in the daytime.

He stood beside a boat on the coastline, a shape and model Brawly didn't recognize from anyone in Dewford. Hardly dressed for a beach day, he stood with his hands within black pockets on his dress pants, eye scanning the Hoenn horizon. Beside him was a younger girl, but Brawly's tunnel vision zeroed in on the target in question, seeing red as the rest of the scene surrounding him.

A few uneven steps forward shifted to a full sprint, arms clenched and alternating like pistons, breath ragged and powerful. The Gym Leader practically flew down the beach, Pokéball in hand. Upon seeing the ex-Champion for himself, Brawly's temper took precedent over everything else. He thought back to the shame and embarrassment of losing to him. To the endless stress his resignation caused. To the regret he felt for sharing his past with someone so loose with the world's secrets.

"STONE!"

The shout caught the girl's attention first, turning around in shock to see the charging figure approach. Scrambling backwards, she gave Brawly a direct path to Steven, who calmly faced the Gym Leader. There was no surprise across his face—only a tinge of disappointment that his relaxing distraction was over.

With a flash, Brawly called upon his Machamp from its Pokéball, the looming gray figure leaned inward towards its targets, joints locked in place like weapons primed. The Gym Leader halted himself, roaring the attack order as his Pokémon launched its arms at unseen speeds, repeatedly battering the beach below him.

The impact of each strike would flatten any human; each attack sliced through the air, followed by a booming bellow of thunder as the Machamp's palms made contact with the sandy floor. A cloud of dust and debris blew into the air, a cloud tall enough to be seen from Dewford. Matching its trainer's energy, the Pokémon continued its frenzied barrage, leveling the coastline in front of it in an attempt to reduce the former Champion to a pummeled mass. The surrounding area imposed the same danger as a storm, and Steven's company was blown away from the strikes, rolling down the beach and crashing off her feet.

Brawly halted his Pokémon harshly, forcing it to freeze in place. The Gym Leader saw a shadow in the air above them, through the cloud of sand the Machamp caused.

Steven Stone stood atop it all, unscathed.

Dusting his jacket off, his feet were firmly planted on his Pokémon. Its sharp, metallic wings fluttered upwards until the sea's draft kept it hovering in place above the beach. Its chrome exterior ended with a curved beak at the end of its guarded face. Steven, and the Skarmory beneath him, were just outside of the Machamp's reach.

"Well, that was sooner than expected…" Steven lamented, still casually observing the unfolding scene beneath them. "Still no tact, after all this time. You've gone and embarrassed me in front of my new friend."

"Get down here!" Brawly barked, every muscle on him tensed. His Machamp leapt, unable to make purchase on its target.

"Come on. _Why _in the world would I do that?"

"I'll kill you, you bastard!"

"Exactly my point."

The Gym Leader was momentarily distracted by the girl in his periphery, slowly rising to her feet. She was scuffed at the knees and elbows—not to mention clearly in disarray after such a confusing turn of events. Her Pokéballs were locked up, witness to a battle too early for her to participate in. Beyond that, Brawly was astounded that he recognized her. He nearly scoffed at the revelation.

She was Norman's kid.

He returned to his regular fury as Steven made a bow atop his Skarmory. It was his final act of mockery towards the frothing Leader beneath him.

"_Au revoir_, Jade!" He called. "That means _until we meet again _in Kalos. Because I'm _sure _this won't be the last time."

His legs slid over his Pokémon, latching onto it more tightly. Like a bullet, the Skarmory's body hunched, legs retracting into its armor-like skin. Its wings swung, ready for takeoff, as its trainer bestowed a farewell.

"Keep earning the world's riches—I'll be sure the world will have riches to give!"

"Wait—!"

Brawly's final order was drowned out by the sound barrier shattering, as the Skarmory blasted off across the horizon at impossible speeds. The waves were sliced on its course, and the sand was unsettled further around the bystanders. For as casual as Steven appeared before the Gym Leader, his exit was as theatrical as he remembered him.

But, he had little patience for showmanship.

"_Fuck!_" He shrieked, spiking the Pokéball across the beach, practically shattering it (even his Machamp knew not to interfere with its trainer's tantrums).

All at once, his attention turned away from the empty horizon, and back to the leads still within reach. Jade, as lost as Brawly was furious, was beside herself with questions. After a harrowing escape from a dark cave, she was exhausted—both physically, and weary of Steven's boisterous company. Then, just when things were starting to calm down, a Gym Leader barges onto the beach and nearly flattens her with his Pokémon.

Before she could get a word in, Brawly stormed towards her, anger flared—shoving her shoulder and knocking her back onto the beach.

"Hey—_HEY_!" She screamed, scrambling back onto her feet, unable to send her Pokémon out in defense. "What was that for?!"

"What the _hell _were you doing?!" Brawly screamed back, matching her volume as he pointed towards the ocean. "Do you have _any _idea who that man is?!"

"No, I don't!" Jade argued back in an honest rage. "I barely know who you are—nice to meet you, by the way!"

"Then, tell me, what _do _you know?!" Brawly's arms flew up in a frenzy. His temper was directed elsewhere, turning away from Jade as he hissed in rage through his teeth, allowing her the chance to breathe. Reinvigorated with focus, the Gym Leader stormed back towards her, finger in her face. "Tell me everything. Where you saw him, what he was doing—that piece of shit is too dangerous to go free. You _can't _be seen around him! you have _no _idea what he's capable of!"

Brawly was taken aback, after his orders seemed to bounce off the youth. She stared back at him, unflinching, a fire in her eyes as she boiled in anger. It was rare for the Leader to meet someone who could match his temper—hers was just more silent. It was far from what he expected, the meek daughter of another stern Gym Leader. With how harsh he knew Norman could be, Brawly would have assumed that his daughter would be a little more world-weary.

But, it was clear from her face that she didn't fear Norman, and she didn't fear him in the least, either. She brushed shoulders with him, storming off the beach and towards town.

"Fuck you, man."

Watching Jade march off away from his accusations only fueled Brawly further. For as pettily as Hoenn's locals could treat him, he could match their pettiness. It was clear Jade was clueless about Steven, and didn't have anything that could help the League. It was also clear that she hated Brawly for valid reasons—unlike most of Hoenn. But, unwilling to get anything less than the last word, Brawly hollered towards her as she walked off.

"We're not done yet!" He called. "You're after my badge, aren't you? Come to the Gym before sundown. You'll get your challenge—I'll get my answers."

Jade did not afford a look back towards the Gym Leader, too prideful to let the conversation continue after exiting. Leaving Mr. Briney behind, and doing her best to forget every detail about Steven, she strode towards Dewford, focused on finding the nearest Pokémon Center and locking her door. She grew to like Roxanne despite a bad first impression—she was _certain _this was not the case with Brawly. In one interaction, he topped the list of people Jade wanted to put in their place. Pokémon by her side, she zeroed in on her new goal: ripping a badge out of that bastard's hand, and sailing off to less douchey waters by nighttime.


	16. Part Thirteen: The Regionless

**Chapter Thirteen: The Regionless**

* * *

_**Current Team: **_

_**Willow the Grovyle (male) Lv. 18**_

_**Geisha the Dustox (female) Lv. 17**_

_**Spike the Poochyena (female) Lv. 17**_

_**Goonie the Zigzagoon (male) Lv. 17**_

_**Apache the Tailow (male) Lv. 18**_

_**Vocaloid the Whismur (female) Lv. 17**_

* * *

Entering Dewford Town felt like an escape from the solitude and serenity of the beach to the north. Within the Pokémon Center, there were no sounds of the ocean, all waves and sea-breeze muted by the medical atmosphere. It was more vacant than the other Centers we traveled to. But, I would have bypassed any hustle and bustle anyway.

I was furious.

There were other emotions stirring within me—humiliation and confusion were the silver and bronze medal. But, above anything else, I was angry. Provoked past the point of reasonable thought. Out of nowhere, a Gym Leader stormed up to me, and nearly killed me as a casualty of a battle I had no part in. His target was Steven; I couldn't help but feel like my trust was betrayed, even if I didn't trust him in the first place. Regardless, two people I had no business with left me strewn across the beach, nearly slain by Pokémon I had no interest in battling.

And, after all of their nonsense was settled, that red-faced, blue-haired, broad-shouldered shit actually _shoved _me off my feet. Accused me of things I knew nothing about. Bullied me past the point of retreat. I had never felt so overwhelmed and dejected; with no experience to draw from, my only idea was to leave.

He had the audacity to challenge me. _Me. _I'm the one that's supposed to be challenging Gym Leaders.

Brawly had no idea the fire he set. With the door to my room sliding shut behind me, I felt my one-track mind bypassing everything else. Now, I could only think about putting that bastard in his place. One by one, I released my Pokémon into the room, lined up on the bed before me, staring up at my focused stare.

"Game plan time." I told them.

My teammates were having separate reactions to the Gym Leader's provocations. I could tell, even though my Grovyle was faced away from me, arms folded—that he was _fuming_. Willow and I shared a temper. Some of the others—my Poochyena, my Zigzagoon, my Whismur—were more subdued. They walked away from that exchange with a different reaction than I expected. They were apprehensive. Maybe even fearful.

"_We're getting into this fight?_" Goonie asked, hesitantly looking upward. "_All in the same day of that cave trip?_"

"_…don't you ever sleep, jade…?_" Vocaloid questioned.

"Not really," I answered honestly; my lack of sleep the past few nights probably worsened my mood. "I'm sick of sitting on fights for a couple of weeks—I want to rip this bandage off today, and leave this place."

"_Yeah, well, if his Machamp is any indication, I don't want anything to do with fighting that guy…_" Goonie's remarks were discouraged in tone, and it felt like he spoke for the rest of the group. His experience being a grunt worker for a Gym Leader must have been weighing on him; he knew how dangerous they could be. Even if they weren't trapped inside their Pokéballs during the fight, it would have been a slaughter. Brawly and Steven both had Pokémon too dangerous for us to face.

As best I could, I tried to ease their concerns.

"Leaders have to use their Minor-League Pokémon against us," I justified. "He hasn't realized it yet, but he's shown us his hand. He uses fighting-types. That's valuable information for us."

"_Valuable how?_" Spike questioned. "_I'm not sure you've noticed this weakness yourself, Jade. But we're short on answers for fighting-types._"

She was right. I looked at my lineup of Pokémon atop the bed—normal-type, dark-type, normal-type, et cetera. Just like with Roxanne, we were at a disadvantage. I was lucky to have read up so much about battles, or we would have been walking into a slaughter.

"I know," I said. "But, it's alright—we can only register three Pokémon for this fight anyway. You, Goonie and Vocaloid will be the bench."

Recalling the rules I learned for the Rustboro Gym, I was developing a game plan on-the-fly. Against Roxanne, I was only allowed to use as many Pokémon as she used. She had three; I assume Brawly was no different. Which meant, unless I could decide on three viable options, I didn't have a reliable enough team to face the Leader.

But, I had ideas brewing. First, I addressed the Grovyle sulking in the corner, drawing him into our conversation.

"Willow, you're the anchor," I said, as he peered over at us from the corner of his eye. "You're the only one with any experience fighting Gym Leaders. So, if things get out of hand, it'll be up to you."

"_I've got to say—_" He spoke up, leaned against the back wall, finally facing us. "_You're speaking my language for once, kid. Although, I don't like waiting until things get 'out of hand' to start fighting. Can't I take the lead like always?_"

I shook my head, to his disappointment.

"You've gotten stronger after evolving. But we still have better options against fighting-types. Apache can deal more damage to his Pokémon."

My Tailow sat beside the rest of the team silently, perched with his wings huddled closely to his sides. It was much more silent than Willow's outright eager attitude towards revenge—but he was definitely angry, too. All he had to do was offer a nod, and I knew he understood his role in the fight.

But, that was not the full extent of my plans. The rest involved our more sheepish company—my Dustox flinched upon realizing my attention was to her.

"Better yet—Geisha will be the star of this fight."

"_I beg your pardon…?_" She muttered apprehensively, almost offended that I volunteered her.

"I've been reading up, on our trip at sea," I explained, recounting my studies on our voyage to Dewford. "When you evolved, you became bug _and _poison-type. Any fighting-type attacks will barely sting."

Truthfully, I was eager to give Geisha a chance in an official League battle. It was the exact confidence boost she needed—she could feel comfortable outside of her Pokéball. Sadly, she did not match my enthusiasm, giving me the most resistance of the team.

"_Are you sure…?_" She asked, making it clear that she was far from sure herself. "_It doesn't sound like you have any science to back that up…_"

"It's the type-chart, Geisha."

"_W-well, what if I don't believe in your silly human charts…?_"

I found my frustration mounting, upon learning that the majority of my team wasn't ready for a fight. Projecting my rage onto them, I pressed the issue with my Dustox further than I normally would have.

"Come on." I goaded her. "Where's the Wurmple that hustled so hard to evolve?"

"_That was a phase._" She answered, head turned. "_I'm all grown up now._"

"It's only been a few days!"

"_I mature fast, alright?!_"

I felt like I passively let Geisha's self-loathing grow with time, only for it to come back and bite me later. It was hard to empathize with her, as something that would never evolve. I couldn't understand why she was upset, and that was the source of my anger. But, before I said something I would later regret, the argument was interrupted. My Tailow spoke up, abruptly volunteering himself.

"_Jade. Let me take point in this fight._"

"Apache," I turned cautiously. "Are you sure?"

"_It's like you said—I can hit the hardest,_" he justified. "_I might not take the hits as well, but that's all the more reason to have me at the front of the fight. Once things get dicey, you can send out the cleanup crew to finish the job._"

Admiring his ability to think through his frustration, I found his logic sound. At that moment, I wondered how the hell other trainers braved the world if they didn't listen to their Pokémon's ideas. Beyond that, I was grateful that I shared in studying about battles—if I was ever barging headlong into a fight, I had six others keeping me accountable.

Trusting his judgement fully, I nodded in agreement to Apache's request, fully aware that he spoke up to take the pressure off of Geisha. Out of anyone in the group, he seemed to understand her the best. With my Tailow choosing to brave the first phase of the battle, I could tell Geisha was more subdued, likely feeling outshone.

"_Oh, well—now I just feel bad…_" she muttered, dripping with guilt.

"_Don't._" Apache answered her regret with an odd mixture of sternness and delicacy. "_You shouldn't volunteer for anything you're not prepared for._"

"He's right." I echoed his accommodation, feeling equally guilty for arguing with my own team. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard. None of you have to fight if you aren't prepared or invested."

With a sudden clench, my fists tightened, gloves strained.

"But," I added, selfishly. "Sometimes, I can't sit still. When someone pushes me down, I want to push back. I know some of you are the same. I don't just want to have fun on this trip. I want to win. I want to prove something."

Eyes trailing across the floor, I saw from the corner of my vision—Willow nodded in agreement. He matched my ambition, however loose my goals felt. Turning up to the rest of the group, I saw the others more unified in expression. I felt a loyal trust from the previously-apprehensive batch of Pokémon. That talk was just another reminder for me. For my team to understand what I want, I just have to express it.

The only Pokémon in the entire batch that still seemed discouraged after our planning session was Geisha. As I was returning my team to their Pokéballs, she spoke softly towards me, like she was admitting some gigantic fault.

"_You've got grit, Jade… sorry to say I'm not more of the same._"

I wasn't sure what to say, and I was already out the door before I could think of something comforting. Thankfully, Apache picked up the rebound, being as assuring as ever and affirming her decision.

"_You don't need to apologize if your heart isn't in it,_" the Tailow said, confidently adding: "_I'll put on a show in your place._"

* * *

Once I finally managed to calm my temper, at least on the outside, I meandered my way through Dewford, eventually coming upon the town's Gym. Admittedly, I wasn't sure what to expect, since this was only my second one. But, to say the least—it was underwhelming, comparing it to Roxanne's.

The glass doors weren't automatic. The entryway was far from welcoming, closer to ramshackle. There was an aged smell filling the space, like it had been seldom cleaned. There was no welcome wagon, no pomp or circumstance to speak of. With no one to direct my path through the unfamiliar building, I strode with an angry confidence, hoping I would eventually reach my destination.

It was strangely-lit through the main hallway. The bulbs were dimly humming above me, filling the space with a droning, constant buzz. Compared to the bombastic and modern stadium in Rustboro, this Gym felt neglected, like the League could only afford seven. And this was the sad, unfortunate eighth.

The scene was bothersome. All the more reason to earn the badge quickly and get the hell out of town as quickly as can be.

At the end, the room opened up to more familiar territory. There was a wide expanse of a court in the center, and a stadium glass ceiling above. Lining the edges of the arena, there was gym equipment strewn across the floor—benches and weight machines alike. There were bleachers on both edges, which I assumed were meant for spectators. Vacant, they only made the room feel all that more empty. The only spectators were a few lining the wall, standing up, disinterested in my arrival. I wasn't sure if this boded well for my challenge. My guess was people didn't show up because they thought it would be a blowout. In whose favor, I had no idea.

Assuming my spot on one end of the court, I looked across to see Brawly, standing sternly, a glare shot my way. I matched his stare in silence, until he broke eye contact to unroll his sleeve, revealing a Pokétch wrapped around his wrist.

"Right on time." He said. "Not too early. Not too late. It's that kind of punctuality that I've come to expect from Norman. Looks like his kid is just as stern with time."

In that moment, I swore to kill the next person who talked to me about Norman.

"Let me guess," I called over the arena. "You two are the best of friends."

"We're the worst of colleagues." Brawly corrected me. "I hate him."

"It's a shame we have so much in common."

He shook his head, like he was looking through me. With a reminiscent expression, he listed every grievance he had with Norman, like I was invested, like I wanted to listen to a damn word he said.

"Your father placed himself atop a pedestal," Brawly recounted with a seething tone. "The Gym with the best record in Hoenn. He thinks he's so much more hardworking than me, because the numbers back it up. But he's nothing but an asshole with a pampered throne in Petalburg."

A hand waved across the air in front of him. It was dismissive, but clearly driven by anger. Like he was tossing Norman in the trash.

"His hard work is all for nothing. They hate him as much as they fear me."

I felt a pressure mounting in my stomach. But, it wasn't fear or disgust. Unable to prevent the impulse, I let out a laugh. Something about his self-righteous attitude tickled me, and led me to ridicule him. My earlier thought couldn't have been more wrong—we had _nothing _in common.

"So that's it?" I asked him, calming my guffaw. "You don't really hate Norman—you're jealous of him? You wish you were half the man he was? Take it from his daughter. That's pretty sad. That's a low bar for anyone to fail reaching."

The Gym Leader's eyelids tensed to a squint, like he envisioned me burning alive. It was beyond me, but the bastard wanted me to _sympathize _with him. After throwing me around and shouting at me. Knowing his temper, it made sense that he was so touchy. He imparted a subdued response, dripping with rage.

"…A numb husk." He hissed. "Just like your father."

I wasn't sure I had a breaking point.

But I'm pretty sure Brawly was nearing it.

Before I knew what I was doing, I reached for one of the Pokéballs at my hip. It was one of the few times I held it like a weapon in my hand. Holding it out towards him, my glare became unblinking. I was done with small talk.

"_Don't _compare me to him."

Now that I was furious, he seemed much more calm by comparison. Nevertheless, he matched my movement, bringing out a Pokéball of his own.

"I'm going to enjoy this, Jade," he said, uttering my name for the first time. I didn't know how he knew it. I didn't care. "Beating you will prove just how embarrassing Norman's tough-guy act really is."

With a flash of white on both sides of the field, we each released a Pokémon simultaneously. Apache was poised in the arena, ready to scrap from the instant he was called upon. Across the way, there was a gray, humanoid figure with yellow strands strung up its scalp. I felt a faint relief—it was hardly the hulking Machamp we saw earlier. Still, there was a feral nature to the Machop Brawly called upon. The intensity of its expression made it feel like a deathmatch was about to ensue.

Accompanying a point with the command, Brawly made the first move.

"Bulk-Up."

Unfamiliar with the move, I found myself halted in observation, watching the Machop tense up on the field. Parts of its body seemed to redden from strain, as its muscles tightened and pulsed in exertion.

I felt a warning signal ring in my brain. It was like something unlocked within me—an instinct I didn't know I had. Even though the Machop was standing perfectly still, doing nothing but flexing itself, something in the back of my head was screaming at me to stay away. It exuded a deadly aura, and I subconsciously registered that I could be so very, very easily killed by that creature—a Pokémon no taller than my knees.

Because we were dealing with something unfamiliar, and vaguely dangerous—I faltered, unable to give my Pokémon a command.

Apache was not so patient as to wait for a command.

As a navy-blue blur across my vision, I watched my Tailow soar towards his opponent, faster than I'd ever seen him fly. Compared to the joyful soar across the Dewford beach, it was clear my Pokémon was out for blood. A crack rippled across the air, as Apache whipped his wing into the Machop's torso—whether it was from surprise or from pain, Brawly's Pokémon stumbled from the strike, nearly tripping backwards.

"_As if._" Apache grumbled, striking downward with a second, third, and fourth Wing Attack. "_You think you can beef up in my face, and I'll let you get away with it?_"

The consecutive strikes were like a storm. Every swipe of Apache's wings, the finesse of a blade—each impact, the bludgeon of a hammer. Suddenly, the Machop that sent a shiver down my spine was helpless before the onslaught, trying to maintain the tension in its muscled through a pained expression. Standing on the sideline, I felt like nothing but a spectator to the fight; turns out, Brawly was in the same boat. With an impatient folding of his arms, the Gym Leader tried his best to advise his Pokémon.

"Hold steady!" He barked. "We're ending this with our next turn—"

His orders were drowned out in my ear by Apache's shout.

"_You don't get a turn, you bastard!_"

Another strike, and another. Like an endless barrage, my Tailow continued his onslaught, leaving no time for rebound or rest. Bullying the Machop ad infinitum, Brawly's ringer was eventually launched backwards, shoulders slumped into the platform its trainer was perched atop, hopelessly unable to continue the fight.

This level of fury was something I grew to expect with Willow, who was so outwardly confrontational. I never expected such a beast dwelled within Apache. My Tailow was certainly ambitious, but he was far from a bloodthirsty creature. Still, his anger was apparent with each strike, every whip of his wings a relief of frustration that had been pent up on our entire journey.

I tried to pin the source of his anger. It could have been the loss of his home at the hands of Team Aqua. It could have been his lack of involvement in the first Gym battle, or in the cave where Spike almost lost her life.

His shouts made it more clear.

"_Don't talk to my trainer like she's a monster!_" Apache bellowed; his proclamation was aimed at Brawly, despite falling upon deaf ears. "_She saved me from my home and gave me a second chance to fly! The only monster here is YOU!_"

That was when it clicked.

He was angry on my behalf.

At every turn, my Pokémon made me grateful we went on this journey.

Brawly's anger was palpable, even across the court. There was no strategy or trickery, like I had against Roxanne. Apache was simply too quick for his Machop to handle, and he reluctantly called the Pokémon back into its ball. Even though he was deep in thought, and clearly distracted by it, my scowl never left him. I stared him down, applying as much pressure as I could manage. While Apache won the fight on the field, I devoted myself to the battle outside the ring—the battle of wits.

Reaching to his side for his second contender, Brawly released another Pokémon onto the field. I knew what a Meditite was; but, I'd never seen one in person. I only heard the stories of their dedicated lifestyle, of their disciplined habitat behavior. It felt all the more real staring down the blue-and-white beast, legs crossed, humming softly above the ground, hovering inches overtop the court.

It was hard to parse what type a Pokémon was, just from the tales in my childhood storybooks. But, I was almost _certain_ it was psychic-type, based off the tales of how dangerous a Meditite's deep meditation was. They were able to kill invaders without even moving—only thinking. To my dismay, they must have also been fighting-type. I feared that this meant Brawly was calling upon an ace.

"We're taking a more metered approach." The Gym Leader told his Pokémon, holding out a hand in demonstration. "Reflect."

The opal hands of the Meditite clasped together, and my body tensed as a faint blue hum of energy emitted off its body, surroundings dimming in contrast. As its palms separated, a transparent surface was visible between them, being stretched the further its arms parted. The Meditite conceived a glass barrier between itself and my Tailow, reflecting an artificial, pinkish light across the surface. Again, I was bearing witness to a move I'd never seen before.

"Your Pokémon relies so heavily on offense," Brawly said, words sharpened towards me. "I'll show you that you'll need more than a reckless attack to do my team in—"

Before I could register the Gym Leader's threats, my senses were assaulted by a sudden shattering noise. I watched as the barrier the Meditite so meticulously constructed broke apart in an instant.

Apache flew straight through, wings crossed and flung to his sides.

"_If offense isn't enough, then why can't you stop it?!_"

The Tailow continued his dance of bladelike strikes against the Meditite, doing its best to defend from the assault, to no avail. As Apache attacked, and attacked, and attacked, shards of the barrier were raining down upon the pair, scattering as a pink wind in the Gym arena, the sound of countless strikes ringing in our ears.

"Apache—be careful!" I shouted, only able to offer my concern.

"_That's exactly what he wants me to do._" Apache called back. "_I'm stopping him before he pulls off his plans!_"

My Pokémon assured me that my worries were moot. He was right; even if he attacked more patiently, it would be no less safe. A bird's bones are brittle, so leaving any opportunity for the enemy to attack would backfire. Apache knew his weaknesses better than anyone, and was doing his best to compensate.

In a similar, speedy fashion to the Machop, Brawly's Meditite was sent tumbling backwards, rolling across the ground in an unconscious slump. Despite my spike in anxiety and constant, expected worry, it was becoming clear that we were winning.

More than that—it was somehow a blowout.

I was watching Brawly's plans crumbling, every bout of disbelief palpable across his face. Temper flared, only furthered by his intense confusion, I heard a desperation creeping into his voice, in a remark made less silently than he was hoping.

"Shit…" he seethed. "What the hell is wrong with that Tailow?"

Behind me, there were whispers. But, they weren't from my Pokémon; I nearly forgot there were any spectators to begin with. The minimal eyes on the match between Brawly and I were enough to give me a slight stage fright. I tried my best to stiffen my posture, and act like I couldn't hear them. But, their gossipy tones were too compelling to ignore, and I felt drawn in by what they were talking about.

"That trainer is making quick work of Brawly…"

"This'll be the third battle he's lost in a row."

"Is this really the guy that's supposed to protect our island?"

"Let's just go. I don't want to be around when he snaps from losing…"

I felt an oddly delicious pride from their comments.

Suddenly, an audience didn't sound too bad, especially since we were making such quick work of Brawly. He made himself sound so tough. He made it seem like the world saw him as Mr. Big-and-Scary. He made it seem like his job was the most important thing in the world. But, the average joes behind me proved him wrong at every turn. They could tell that his Pokémon were outmatched by mine. They knew he wasn't half as scary as the Gym Leader thought he was. They knew he was the Gym with the least wins.

I finally understood why he had so few spectators. Earlier, I worried it was because they didn't believe in my ability to succeed. But, it was the exact opposite. They had no faith in their own Leader to defend their home.

Snapped back to the battle by my Tailow's voice, I felt his exhaustion. Wings held outward, his breathing was ragged. Leaving no room to rest was wearing him down and I felt a secondhand weariness just looking at him.

"_Two down…_" he uttered under his breath.

"Don't push yourself too hard—" I told him, already jostling my belt and looking for another Pokéball. "Willow is ready to handle the rest."

From his posture, poised for the third round of combat, I could tell that no amount of convincing would bring him back to his Pokéball.

"_They haven't even hit me yet, Jade,_" Apache answered me hurriedly, hiding any apprehension from me. "_Don't worry. I can still fly._"

When our battle of words led to a dead end, Brawly resorted to solving our dispute on the battlefield. But, now that he was clearly on the backfoot, and the diminishing crowd was emptying further, I could see the Gym Leader looking for a target to impose his swelling anger. And so, after battling failed to solve his inner disputes, he returned to fighting with words, launching an accusatory point in my direction.

"What the hell is this…" He grumbled sorely, volume rising with his rage. "You're not even ordering your Pokémon! It's just winning the battle on its own while you're its fucking _cheer squad_!"

"_Don't listen to him, Jade._"

To every end, my Pokémon defended me, both on and off the field.

"_We trained for this,_" Apache followed up. "_You taught me how to fight._"

"This is bullshit—" Brawly's complaints were reaching a fever pitch. "How am I losing to a kid that doesn't even know how to train a proper team?!"

Slowly, my opinion of the Gym Leader was changing. But not improving. I thought hating him would be permanent. But, the more I watched him flounder in our scrap, the greater the divide between him and Roxanne grew within my mind. Before I understood how it happened, I no longer hated Brawly.

I pitied him.

"You thought I'd be a pushover."

The revelation came out before it could be filtered. I watched Brawly's attention snap back to me, no longer sulking in aimless rage. I looked at him blankly, matching the cold feeling I felt every time I stared Norman in the eyes. It was a serene hatred. The boiling anger within me stilled, and there was nothing but an emotionless glare for him to look back at. The darkest mirror I could be.

"All this time," I said. "In your head, you've been fighting Norman. But right here, right now, you're losing to _me_."

Through grit teeth and a reddening face, Brawly was unable to match my serenity, every nerve on his forehead tensed, distinctly visible from the valley of an arena between us. He clutched a third Pokéball in his hands, and from the intensity, I nearly worried that it would be crushed beneath his grip.

"You little shit…" He seethed.

Upon releasing his final contender, I was all the more certain that the battle was won. I was convinced there was no ace in the hole, after laying eyes on the familiarly plump yellow warrior facing my Tailow. It was a Makuhita—buff, but laughably pampered compared to the war-torn, cave-dwelling fighter we rescued in Granite Cave.

"Bulk-Up!"

The Pokémon clasped its two fists together, tightening the grip of its skin over its form, muscles straining across its entire body until the details became distinct and define beneath its pudgy exterior. I practically scoffed.

"You're recycling old tricks!"

With that decree, I sent Apache towards the enemy, my Tailow descending upon the Makuhita with its usual dance of wings, striking every side he could find purchase. Though the Makuhita was trained enough to brave the storm of blows, it was on the defensive, feet skidding backwards with each strike upon its guard.

More and more whips of the wings ensued. Apache's endless offense was working, leading us on the most straight and direct path to victory. Before long, the Makuhita was off one of its feet, struggling to hold back against the onslaught.

In desperation, Brawly's stern orders slowly became unabashed shouts. Putting everything into his screams towards his Pokémon, he was inches away from storming the field and finishing the job himself. His voice had grown guttural, more akin to a feral beast than a human, as a roar from the throat bellowed through the stadium:

"No… _NO_!"

* * *

_As Leader Brawly, the man without a region, shouted at the apex of his battle against Jade, the lights of the Dewford Gym flickered._

_Nothing significant._

_ The lights just flickered. _

_ It was a normal occurrence in the Gym. Electricity was a depleting resource in Hoenn. Only the major cities ran off reliable energy—and Dewford was too far from the mainland to power reliably. Everyone's home on the island dealt with flickering lights, from time to time. _

_ To Brawly, every time the lights flickered, he was reminded of his mistakes._

_ He was the person in charge of a town on the brink of collapse, unable to earn any extra funding from the Pokémon League. The performance of his Gym was too low to ask for any more of the region's depleting resources. He, and Dewford, were forsaken as a result. _

_ The people's judgmental looks._

_ Their scathing whispers. _

_ It was all because he would lose. And lose. And lose._

_ So, as the lights flickered, sending the sparking dregs of a blown-out bulb scattering in the space in front of him, Brawly was taken aback. He was sent into disarray, paralyzed with thought, his rage momentarily extinguished by a crushing question._

_ How did I get here?_

_ The bulb's sparks, like embers fizzling out in thin air, were all that lit the space in that instant where the room's lights went dark. With nothing else to see, the Gym Leader looked within. He was brought back in time. _

_ Wading on the waves helplessly._

_ The sea going still._

_ A bright flash on the horizon._

_ Blinding, deafening terror. _

_ Loss of life._

_ A wasteland ablaze: Cinnabar. _

_ Politics, war, bombs. A tempest of forces outside of the young man's control sent his life into complete chaos, launching his future path across the map, in a land that hated him. Despite the relief efforts, Brawly felt no less relieved all these years later. He fought tooth-and-nail for a region that rejected him. He defended a Gym he couldn't hope to protect. He looked down on everyone, being the bottom of the barrel already. A man without a region is a man without identity. Without self._

_ Again, the burning question. _

_ How did I get here?_

_ The answer was not as far back as his childhood; he abandoned that long ago. Searching, in that fraction of a second when the lights flickered, he was brought back to a different memory. One in the backlogs of his thoughts, yet at the front of his mind. In the time between his arrival to Hoenn and his rise through the League's ranks as a Gym Leader._

_ In the period where he was just a trainer. Nothing more and nothing less._

_ He climbed desperately, fighting everything in sight. His Pokémon were his soldiers, and he waged war on Hoenn's countless routes. To wild Pokémon, and trainers alike, he was a scourge, satisfied with nothing short of absolute victory. Even though Brawly was actualizing his dream of becoming a trainer, he wasn't any closer to fulfilment. _

_ Five badges in. His goal was to obtain all eight and challenge the League. But, that plan changed when he failed to earn his sixth. His path led him to Petalburg City, where he would fight one of the League's up-and-coming Gym Leaders. _

_ Brawly would lose the fight against Norman six consecutive times._

_ It was the first plateau he ever reached in Hoenn. The other Gym Leaders offered intense challenges, but their ultimate goal was to improve every trainer that entered their stadium. Norman was different. There was no lesson to the defeat. There was no chance to grow. Norman simply beat every trainer that came into his Gym, calmly asking them to leave afterward. Brawly was no closer to success on each attempt—no amount of knowledge, experience or strategy would save his Pokémon from being wiped out by the Gym Leader's ferocious, hardened beasts._

_ A festering hatred, for all others and himself, brewed within Brawly. It was accompanied with a drive to win. So, for the seventh attempt, the youth made a whole slew of preparations. _

_ Although he had no way of knowing this, Norman would become the reason Brawly will specialize in fighting-type Pokémon. _

_ He spent weeks building up a team of six, searching for any and all fighting-types the region had to offer. Brawly couldn't hope to have an edge in his fights against Norman using conventional planning; he needed to target the Gym Leader's weakness. On his seventh attempt on the Petalburg Gym, the battle was tooth-and-nail, each combatant brought down to their final Pokémon. _

_ And, miraculously, Norman was defeated. _

_ Brawly's frustration suddenly turned to excitement, as he approached the Gym Leader to exchange a handshake and officiate the win. He was on a victory high, and was thinking about all his future plans. Challenging the Elite Four. Taking the Champion's spot. Spitting all over the rules. Telling Hoenn, "fuck you—a foreigner is the strongest trainer in this godforsaken region". _

_ His plans would change drastically once he reached Norman. Instead of taking his hand, the Gym Leader passed along the badge, with a stern tone to accompany it:_

_"You're the boy from Kanto, aren't you?" _

_ Brawly looked up, only to see the Leader's disappointed expression._

"_This is the seventh time you've challenged me…" Norman said. "You had to stack your team with fighting-types just to stand a chance. You have a bad habit of cutting corners."_

_Beside himself in the face of disrespect, Brawly went blind with rage. To this day, he doesn't remember what profanities, what scathing hatred, he shouted at the Gym Leader for belittling his accomplishment. Norman knew he was from Kanto. He knew what he had seen, what he had been through. And, despite it all, he was still willing to add an asterisk to the victory Brawly achieved. _

_In truth, Norman did not expect to awaken such a monster within the youth. Calmly, and coldly, he shook his head, offering the only tidbit of advice he could think to give:_

"_Battling with heart is fine. But your temper is a weakness on the field. There are consequences to getting so angry."_

_In the flickering lights, Brawly received his answer._

_How did I get here? _

_That fuck Norman, that's how._

_The Petalburg Gym Leader was the one that put the nail in the coffin for Brawly's dream of becoming the strongest trainer in Hoenn. In all the turmoil felt in his life, Norman's stern lecture was the last straw, the slightest push he needed to be shoved into a deep despair. _

_Upon discovering that Norman had a daughter, Brawly was excited for her to challenge his Gym. Because, now that he knew Norman was a father, he was certain that fighting-types were no longer his only weakness._

_Sadly, Jade seemed to know all of HIS weaknesses._

_ Brawly, the man without a region._

_Kanto was ashes beneath his feet._

_ Sinnoh broke him._

_ Hoenn forsook him._

_ So, when it seemed that defeat at Jade's hands was inevitable, something snapped. He entered a frenzy, a sentiment that his Pokémon echoed. _

_ And, as Norman warned him:_

_ Losing his temper would have grave consequences._

* * *

The damn lights to the Gym were going out.

I was intent on watching the battle closely, my Tailow unleashing a flurry of blows on the Gym Leader's Makuhita. Unfortunately, the Gym was as run-down as it looked on first impression. And, before I knew what was happening, a light bulb burned out.

As the lights flickered, I heard Brawly roar out another order, voice cracking from the angry desperation dripping outward.

"Arm Thrust!"

The lights fizzled back on, dimly, for a brief moment. I felt my eyes dilating, trying to adjust to the sudden changes in brightness of the dingy stadium. I saw Apache, dispatching and endless wave of Wing Attacks against his opponent. Through the exchange, the Makuhita was losing its foothold, overwhelmed by the onslaught.

But, Apache's exhaustion was catching up to him, and his strikes slowed.

In the midst of attacks, there was a brief opening. If an untrained eye like mine could see it, there was plenty of time for the Makuhita to—

Lights out.

I heard a snap, like rope breaking in two. In the darkness, my heart sunk to my feet, and I felt goosebumps dotting my skin, the Gym suddenly feeling cold. My eyes darted everywhere, unable to see anything.

_No—_

Lights on.

Vision blurred, all I can see is a parade of feathers, fluttering loosely in the arena air, like leaves departing from a tree dying in the winter. Desperately, I search.

Lights out.

_No, no, no, no—_

For the instant that there was darkness, it felt like I lived years of my life, waiting helplessly for sight to return to me. Already, I could feel my body passing over the arena's threshold, stepping off the trainer platform and onto the sleek Gym floor.

_It's okay_, I told myself through quivering breaths.

_My team's been hit by moves all the time. _

_Yeah, you're right. This is no different from training on-route._

_Last time this happened… Willow turned out to be just fine. _

_Apache is strong. Taking on Team Aqua all on his own. _

_He told me he was fine._

_He was spotless this entire fight._

_I must have just been seeing things._

_I bet Apache already won—_

Lights on.

All I saw was a huddled mass, wings snapped, body flung across the Gym floor, feathers dancing daintily to the ground around him. The blood was difficult to see through the dimming lights. Even more impossible to detect were signs of movement. I stared, paralyzed in time, trapped in the moment I discovered Apache, a victim to a critical hit.

Through the fifth flicker, I was held hostage, at the mercy of the deafening shriek escaping my lungs.

"APACHE!"

In my panic, there was no more Gym battle. There was no Gym Leader, no Gym Leader's Pokémon. There was me, and my Pokémon in danger. I stormed onward, through the stadium arena with my Running Shoes squeaking violently along the floor. I dove onto my knees, skidding towards my Pokémon, reaching for him. I wanted to rip him from the floor and sprint full-speed towards the Center. But, I froze up in fear, unable to touch him, from worry of making his injuries worse.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do.

"_I… can still…"_

The weak voice reached my ears, an echo of his earlier, confident self.

"…_fly… I can…_"

With the departure of those words, there was a stillness in the creature between my hands. The ringing in my ears was making my surroundings more silent than they appeared, as I fixated upon Apache, unmoving. All of a sudden, I was not being so patient and gentle, jostling the Tailow in my arms.

"Apache!" I pleaded. "Apache, wake up!"

My mind was working a few moments after my body. Finally, I registered what had happened to Apache—and who the target of my fury would be upon. My vision shot up towards Brawly, mortified. His expression was equally aghast.

"What…" I could only manage to whisper. "Have you done…?"

The Gym Leader whipped an arm out in front of him urgently. Somewhere along in the crisis, I lost all bearings of my surroundings—they were slowly returning to me. Though Brawly was sobered by the sudden turn of events, his Makuhita was still in battle mode, as feral as when he struck my Tailow down. It was trained to be a killing machine, like its trainer wanted from it. It was headed right for me.

"Get the fuck out of the arena!" He shouted at me.

I didn't care what was headed for me.

Apache was all I could afford to worry about.

All I could manage was a shout back.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

I suppose this could have been where my story ended. At the hands of a Gym Leader's Pokémon, accidentally slaughtering a challenger breaking every League rule. If the Makuhita could do such a number on Apache, I stood no chance of surviving its barrage. It wasn't the first time I feared for my life on this journey. I could have been eaten alive by wild Zigzagoon on Route 101. I could have been tortured and beaten by Team Aqua in Petalburg Woods. I could have been torn apart by the Sableye in Granite Cave.

This time was different, though. Clutching Apache in my arms, I was unable to focus on anything but his wellbeing. Even if my life would be the price.

When everything went dark, I thought I died. It took a moment to register that the lights flickered off, yet again. I could only afford a single thought about my own demise: if only I could have met my end in a place a little bit nicer.

Light returned to the stadium. But, it was not from the bulbs on the ceiling.

The initial flash was a familiar release of a Pokéball.

What followed was new.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a shower of purple streaks of light, scraping off the Gym floor and whipping upward in the air, piercing the Makuhita mid-charge. The strange sparkle fizzled out on the ends, twinkling around us and reducing itself to a glowing dust on the floor. Above, the light source glowed, painting streams of energy across the arena, aiming the spray of psychic energy towards the Leader's ace.

There was a crescent-shaped figure amidst the mass of energy, wings extending like a half-moon casting a shadow over Apache and I. In all my desperation and distraction, it was a miracle that I realized what was happening. I was dragged back into the moment, finally able to remember that this was a Gym battle. One that wasn't finished yet.

The instant Apache was out of commission, Geisha took flight, in her first battle as a Dustox. She flew between us and the Makuhita.

"_Get away from my trainer!_"

Zapping the fighting-type with a mass of psychic energy, Geisha charged with an aggression that was unseen in her until now. She and I had vastly different reactions to the crisis we were facing. I could only imagine what she was thinking—seeing the commotion. Watching Apache fall. A spectator, confined to a Pokéball as her trainer recklessly dove onto the field and put herself next on the chopping block.

Warding the Makuhita with her attack, she was unsatisfied sticking back for the usual long haul her battles were. She soared downward, descending upon the Pokémon with a strike to its sternum, a purple flash accompanying the impact. The Makuhita struggled, trying to rip the Dustox away through the strain her psychic energy was imposing on the fighting-type.

It pummeled Geisha, doing everything it could to escape her psychic grapple. But, just as we planned in the Center, the attacks were null, only glancing off her body, humming brilliantly with a lavender hue.

For as haphazardly as I charged onto the field, I found myself frozen in place, ever since my life was threatened. Even though I didn't have much capacity to appreciate it, and despite the dire circumstances—

I couldn't help but marvel at Geisha's attack.

She lit up the room, casting a moon-like glow on the space, painting the surroundings in a warm purple cover. Sparks flew with each psychic surge, popping and fizzling like fireworks, showering onto the battlefield from the sky. It was undoubtedly deadly, but a gorgeous display regardless.

At the end of it all, there was no room for debate or stigma. It was impossible to believe that Dustox were the ugly counterparts to Beautifly.

Though his voice had already fallen silent, I recounted the words Apache imparted on Geisha, doing his best to light the fire that was blazing in the Gym now:

_If you ask me, there's only one thing that makes a Pokémon beautiful. _

_Strength._

With one final push, Geisha blew the Makuhita out of the ring, blasting it off its feet and ripping it away from us with her newly-awakened psychic power. Its body skidded across the floor, hunched and unmoving—to be honest, I had no idea if it was still alive. it was the least of my worries.

All at once, my surroundings stilled. A silence fell in the stadium. The spectators left long ago, and everyone left were wordless, plagued by endless thoughts of regret, fear, worry, grief, anxiety, anger, frustration. Loss.

It didn't feel like it, but I won my second Gym badge.

What it felt like was the most disgusting, pyrrhic victory of my life.

In the newfound silence, I felt strangely… alone.

It was the same quiet atmosphere I became accompanied to in Littleroot, confined to my bedroom, sitting quietly in solitude, unable to sleep. I was miles and miles away from the prison I used to call home—but, in that instant, I was brought back to that lonely life. My eyes scanned for company. Was there someone, _anyone_ in the room other than me.

I watched Geisha slowly, daintily, descend to the Gym's floor. Next, my eyes went to the same place as my Dustox—the Tailow in my arms.

With one last turn, my eyes were on Brawly.

I wanted to scream, and cry, and beat him until he was as bloody as Apache. I came into the Gym with revenge on my mind, only wanting _more _upon leaving. Before I could shout a thousand insults at the piece of shit that did this, my skin ran cold. The look on his face was _not _what I expected. The frustrated, furious look on his face was gone.

A palpable look of regret was its substitute.

He was in disbelief, as lost as I was. A face that had seen countless tragedies appeared on the Gym Leader, suddenly looking like a scared child.

"What the hell…" he stuttered under his breath—far from the intimidating figure I grew to hate. "I… lost…"

I didn't know what to do.

But, having to do something, I did what my instincts forced me to do.

I ran.

Recalling my party back into their Pokéballs, I swept myself up onto my feet and made a mad dash for the exit. I didn't accept a badge. I didn't receive a congratulations. I didn't give a shit. Faster than I ever ran before—even quicker than my escape attempt in Littleroot, I searched for help. I trailblazed past the gossipy, useless bystanders standing outside the Gym. I brushed shoulders with countless people, any and all bodies in my way. I ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, until Dewford was behind me.

It dawned on me that I had no idea where I was running to.

Before I could reason soundly, I was overcome with an unfamiliar feeling, something I never dealt with in the past.

_Denial. _

Briney. I had to find the old man.

Picking up the pace, I strode across the sandy shore, footsteps in my wake. Not letting the padding of the beach beneath me slow my sprint, I charged past the point of exhaustion, scrambling in panic to reach the dinghy we rode to the island.

Mr. Briney would be able to help. He had medicine on the ship. Surely. Willow can heal, too. We just need to find him a living creature to transfer life from.

I thought, _it'll be okay_.

I ran further, knowing deep down that it wouldn't be.

* * *

_**Apache the Tailow (male) Lv. 18**_

_Met in Petalburg Woods, Level 5._

_Hardy nature. Proud of its power._

_Release this Pokémon? _

(X) Yes

( ) No


End file.
